


Quantum Physics of the Female Anatomy

by eri_quin



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Genderbending, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 05:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3838330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eri_quin/pseuds/eri_quin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Samuelle "Just Sam" Witwicky had always known she was different. It made her isolated and lonely, despite her best efforts to fit in. Being a genius wasn't great at all.</p><p>    And then she met Dylan Gould, who became the Lex Luthor to her Superman in the Smallville best friend way, and she didn't feel as lonely anymore. </p><p>    Then came curious Starscream (though he poked at her like a science experiment and wanted to drag her into some alien war), overprotective Bee (who was unquestioningly loyal and sweet to her), and even unruly Barricade (who was really a big softie inside). And then everyone else follows, and she has a whole hoard of humans and mechs to keep the loneliness away. It was a rather bizarre turnaround from before.</p><p>    And when the AllSpark makes her its home, she really does feel like she's fallen down a rabbit hole and entered into her very own makeshift Wonderland..</p><p>Pairings: Not set. No canon pairings. Mainly centered around Sam. Main Sam human pairing: Sam/Dylan, Main Sam mech pairing: Sam/Starscream, Sam/Barricade, and Sam/Bee. Future Sam others very possible i.e. Sam/Optimus, etc. Minor side pairings: Mikaela/Arcee, Chromia/Elita-One, Trent/Flare-Up, Leo/OC…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Twinkling Stars Bearing Down

Judy Witwicky frowned in confusion, looking at all the junk in the box.

"Hey, Spark…what the hell is all this stuff?"

Her husband, Ron Witwicky, frowned as well. "My great grand-dad's stuff. Dad passed it on to me."

"…Let's sell it."

"Absolutely not! Those are priceless family heirlooms," but he only seemed half-reticent to her.

She smirked. "So…anything I can do to change your mind?" she winked, making him turn red.

"Judy!"

She rolled her eyes and glanced in again, catching sight of a dusty case for glasses. She took it out and blew off the dust, examining it critically. When she opened it, there was a pair of spindly glasses, complete with badly cracked lens and metal frame slightly bent.

"…Really needs to go," she deadpanned, picking it up with her forefinger and thumb and holding it up precariously between them.

Ron roughly grabbed it from her, cradling it gently and mock-glaring at her. She huffed at him, though she winced when she felt her hand must've gotten a cut, and frowning again as she thought her hand might've gotten the cut from the cracks of the glasses as Ron snatched it from her.

"Oh, sorry, sweetheart," Ron reached out to grab her hand, but she pulled it away with a hiss, inwardly flinching at the welling up of blood.

"No, no. I got it," she nodded towards the kitchen, where she headed to while Ron took care of the family heirlooms he and Judy was stuck with for the time being. As she put her hand under lukewarm water, she blinked in surprise as she saw that there was no visible cut on her hand like she'd previously seen before she'd rinsed it off.

"Huh…must not have been as bad a cut as I thought."

"Really? That's good news," Ron's voice interjected and she turned to see him hauling the box of junk out of sight. She inwardly smirked, forming a plan in her head. As soon as he came back, she pounced and dragged him up the stairs without another word, leaving him bewildered before he understood and he grinned lasciviously.

_9 months later_

"Stupid bastard! This is all your fault!" Judy screamed, throwing her head back violently and hitting the upright hospital bed harshly.

Ron winced as his hand was practically crushed.

"Just a little bit longer, Mrs. Witwicky! Push!" the doctor thankfully interrupted and Judy screamed one last time before the baby slid out.

Ron pumped a hand into the air in success. "Alright! Samuel James Witwicky, welcome to the world!"

The recorder, who was dealing with the name and details of the birth, wrote down the name.

"…It's a girl, Mr. Witwicky," the doctor announced hesitantly.

Both new parents turned to stare at him, dumbfounded expressions on their faces. Judy, sweaty and exhausted, thought she'd misheard.

"What?"

"It's a girl," the doctor repeated and watched the two Witwicky's turn to look at each other.

"But the doctor –the ultrasound –" Ron hissed out, not even able to finish his thoughts.

"I know! I didn't even think of any female names!" she hissed back.

They traded one last look before they turned to the doctor, the same thought somehow shared through their minds.

"Samu… _elle_ … _Janes_  Witwicky," Judy gave a strained smile.

The recorder quickly wrote over the 'm', darkening it to make it 'Janes' instead of 'James', and then wrote the extra 'le' upwards after 'Samuel'.

The doctor sighed. "Paperwork. Such a hassle," he muttered to himself as he cut the umbilical cord and started to clean up the baby. Then he spanked it and the newly christened Samuelle "Just Sam Please" Janes Witwicky started to healthily cry.

"Samuelle?" Ron murmured to his wife.

She shrugged, "You were thinking it too. Besides…it sounds French…ish."

"Is it even really a real name? Or French?"

"Who knows? Oh well."

And so, February, 17, 1990, Sam Witwicky would be born.

Six years later, the new family was in Washington D.C., visiting Ron's older brother Ben. Ben Witwicky was contently under the employment of Hotchkiss Gould Investments and happily would show them around his home and the city. At this time, there was really only one real cool place that had to be visited.

The Smithsonian Museums.

Unfortunately, since there was such a large collection of them, they could only go to a handful for the duration of the week they were visiting. It was in the National Air and Space Museum that things began to unravel for the 6 year old Sam.

Nearing closing time, the museum was nearly empty. Her parents and Uncle Ben were not near and she was all alone, staring at the gleaming Blackbird, who she could actually  _feel_. Sam couldn't really explain what she meant by that, only that she just felt the plane.

Humming happily, she reached up and was barely able to touch the plane, fingertips glowing slightly at contact, before she heard her mother calling for her. Sighing, she skipped off to them, never noticing the Blackbird's outer shell starting to writhe after the odd moment.

Later that night, the Blackbird would finally transform into a strange being –large and old and all metal and wires –and look at his servos before staring up into the open skies at the stars blinking ahead, the hangar he was in enclosed except for the ceiling's temporary opened "window". He was quite sure he would remember wide, childish hazel eyes on a cherubic innocent face.

The delayed reaction from the energy the child strangely transferred into him was starting to wear off much more quickly than the energy had been able to reanimate him and he knew it, so he transformed back into the proud, gleaming Blackbird that was there for the world to see.

An hour after that, Sam was waking up the household with her screams and scaring everyone with her high fever and unresponsiveness. They quickly rushed her to the hospital and had to wait as Sam was monitored and helped as much as was possible.

"Witwicky family?" a doctor approached them.

"Yes?" Ron spoke up first. "How is she? We don't understand. She's always been so healthy, almost unnaturally so. What's wrong?"

"We're not quite sure," the doctor reluctantly admitted. "Whatever it is, it's actually retreating quite quickly now. It could've been a very severe 24-hour flu or it could've been an allergy attack. Do you know if she's allergic to anything?"

"No, she's not. Like we said, she's been perfectly healthy since the day she was born," Judy answered him.

"I see," the doctor said, inwardly confused at this turn of events. However…"We'll run more tests, but the many tests we have already run have actually revealed something."

"What is it?" Judy asked, becoming afraid.

The doctor hesitated, but plunged on. "I'm sorry to say this, but we've detected that your daughter has Diabetes, Type I. She'll have to start learning to manage it now, and learn how to utilize the various treatments she's afforded."

"Ron, doesn't our family have a history of diabetes?" Ben muttered to his brother.

"Yeah…" Ron answered distractedly.

"My family does too," Judy added unhappily. "It can be genetic, so with both of our families, it might have passed on to her."

"We won't be able to figure out why or how, but we'll just have to focus on helping her with it," Ben consoled his brother and sister-in law. "Don't worry about it. Sam's a fighter. She'll pull through."

A week later, Ron and his family finally came home. The next door house, which had been on sale when they'd left, was now looking pretty occupied.

"Oh, Ron, Sam! Look, we have new neighbors! Fantastic! We should greet whoever they are and invite them over to dinner! Sam, you go do that," Judy chirped up happily, mind away from the morose happenings.

Ron was about to protest, but their 6 year old was already on her way to ring the doorbell of their new neighbor. Sam, blank face as always, quickly did her duty of ringing the doorbell, when the door was opened by a tall blond and blue-eyed man, who smiled gently at her.

"Hallo, what are you doing here, fräulein –eh, I mean 'frau'," the man embarrassedly added, an accent very obvious. "Ah, but you're so small! May I call you fräulein, little one?"

Sam shrugged in agreement, though not knowing what it meant. She could guess that the translation had something to do with what he just called her in English and why he'd exclaimed she was so small. She nearly bristled at that, but then she acknowledged…she  _was_  rather small, especially for her age. So she just did a little 'harrumph!' and pouted.

"Don't be mad, fräulein. It's not bad to be so small. Think of all the mischief you can get into!" he winked and she cheered up, nodding seriously as she thought of the things she was able to do and not get caught because of her size. Like taking cookies out of the cookie jar and her mother automatically blaming her father because Sam hadn't been seen…

"My mom and dad want to invite you over for dinner because Mom's weird like that," she told him in a matter of fact manner.

"Well, I'll be delighted to! Shall I see you in an hour?"

She blinked. "Sure."

So an hour later, their new neighbor, who seemed to be alone moving in, came over with a really delicious looking cake-like dessert.

"Oh, you didn't have to!" Judy exclaimed while both father and daughter stared and mentally drooled.

"Ah, but it is only fair," the blond man smiled. "You invited me for dinner, so I should bring the dessert. I hope you like it. It is a German Hazelnut Torte. It's an old family recipe."

Judy took it and put it in the kitchen for him, while Ron led him to the dining table.

"I'm Ron Witwicky, this is my daughter Sam, and my wife is Judy," Ron introduced them all.

"I am Klaus Beilschmidt, but I go more by 'Dutch'. I just recently moved here from California probably around…three days ago? Yes, you weren't here then," 'Dutch' explained and Ron drew him into a discussion about sports, while Sam grumpily found something to distract herself in the meanwhile.

"Your name and accent sounds German," Judy interrupted cheerfully.

"Yes! I am! I was born around Balvaria –Munich to be exact. I haven't visited for some years now though," Dutch confirmed.

And it was a discussion between the adults that started as they began to eat, while Sam 'humphed!' and delicately ate her mash and casserole.

"That's lovely! Would you mind terribly teaching Sam how to play when you have time?" Judy clapped her hands excitedly.

Sam jerked her head, reeling back into the conversation.

"Would you like that, fräulein? Violin is very soothing. It has a beautiful sound and it's rather haunting."

"Ohhh, Ron, that nickname's so cute," which indicates sometime in their discussion, he'd mentioned it and explained it to her parents while she was daydreaming, "We should totally come up with some foreign nicknames ourselves! It'll be just adorable."

Throwing a glare at her parents, who were actually still talking about that, she turned back to Dutch and nodded enthusiastically.

"I would love to."

* * *

"Guten morgen, Blackie, Aster, Berlitz!" Sam greeted out solemnly, meeting Dutch's three dogs who bounded up to her.

"Morgen, fräulein," Dutch came out from the backyard, dragging a bag of branches. "Blackie, Berlitz, backyard! Aster, to your bed –you are sick," he reprimanded.

The dogs immediately obeyed and Sam was once again reminded of how militaristic the dogs acted –very obedient and behaved.

"Ready for your piano lesson?"

She nodded and looked at him expectantly. He chuckled and nodded his head towards the door, leading her in.

"At this rate, you will be done learning that quickly and we'll be onto guitar, yes? I'm not quite sure what else I have on hand to teach you! I've even taught you German, fräulein."

"You'll come up with something, Herr Dutch," she said airily, already drifting off towards the piano in his living room.

"How about guns?" he asked jokingly, idly remembering his past and his current profession before banishing the thoughts immediately.

"Sure."

"Alright then –" he blinked and realized her nonchalant reply and his own unthinking one. "Ah, we'll revisit that thought later," he said nervously, inwardly twitching. "To the piano, fräulein."

"Already there."

Later, while Sam was visiting her only friend, Dutch was over at her house, visiting with her parents.

"How is she doing?" Judy asked, strangely anxious.

"Well, well," Dutch soothed. "I might start getting on to the guitar soon. She's done quite well with piano and violin, and she maintains her level with them while moving onto other things. Is something the matter?"

Ron and Judy looked at each other.

"You see," Ron started off. "Sam's always been an oddly detached child. Not that she's unemotional…kind of. But that she seems to have a hard time fitting in with others and making friends. Up to now, her only friend has been Miles. She doesn't like to socialize, though before she tried and it was always very awkward. Now she doesn't even attempt it any more, choosing to stick to herself."

"We're glad she likes learning so much, but she's so alone all the time. Although back before that incident when she was six, she'd learned like a sponge, I remember," Judy started twisting her hands together. "Now though, it seems a little harder on her."

Dutch furrowed his eyebrows. "I noticed she seems to have an odd learning curve. Creatively, her mind works wonders. Otherwise, she  _does_  seem to have a harder time of it."

The three of them pondered on that, while their subject was busy with her own thoughts.

Another six years later from meeting Dutch, being diagnosed with diabetes, and the first and only time she was sick, Sam's odd behavior was much more pronounced and noticeable. She didn't look down on the others, but she didn't know how to associate with them. So she was alone and was…not alright, but okay with it. Miles Lancaster was an exception…but only because he was too stubborn and stupid to leave her alone.

She was fond of him because of that.

But now he was moving and she was going to be alone again. Mindlessly, she began fixing his broken stereo as she thought about that. Miles pouted beside her, also unhappy at the news, but she ignored that and wondered about her situation.

Sam liked to fix things. She was very good at it and she could fix nearly anything at the age of 12. Her father was already in the process of teaching her about cars and she happily soaked it up, regardless of her mother's neighbor female friends muttering how it was a boys' thing and little girls like her had no business dirtying her hands like that.

She blew a raspberry at them behind their backs.

She also was incredibly smart for her age. Before becoming sick when she was 6, she nearly learned whatever she could and quite easily for that matter. But afterwards, gradually her learning started to suffer and she found that she had a lot of trouble with some things now when she hadn't before. And that things creatively and artistically were even more easier for her to learn than ever before.

She'd never gotten sick since that time, and was very healthy aside from her diabetes. She was also a bit of an oddball when it came to her clothing, preferring a specific style of dresses and stubbornly sticking to it.

It was these things and more that had others her age cringe away and look at her weirdly. But she didn't mind. It was just the way she was. And so far, other than her parents and Dutch, only Miles seemed capable of accepting that.

"I'm going to miss you, Miles," she finally said, pausing in her movements and looking sadly down at the almost fixed stereo.

"Me too!" he wailed and threw himself at her, hugging her tightly.

The next day, Miles moved and Sam moped around Dutch's home, playing  _Moonlight Sonata_  skillfully.

"…You're so dramatic," Dutch commented dryly.

Her response was to play louder.

His phone rang and he left to answer it, and she continued her playing. But then she heard something very odd. Dutch was speaking without an accent to whoever he was speaking to on the phone.

"…Yes, Project X is doing quite well. Nothing unusual seems to be occurring however."

Dutch finished up his call and noticed something out of place. He couldn't place what it was until he placed his phone down. It was quiet.  _Too_  quiet. Hadn't Sam been playing just moments earlier? He turned and nearly jumped out of his skin at the girl quietly standing in the kitchen entrance, watching him.

On a raining, dark day like that, with no light in the house, it was rather creepy.

"You have no accent," she stated.

He nodded and admitted. "I don't have to. I usually do, but I am able to cancel it out. I'm also capable of mimicking other accents. In fact, this one is my favorite," he ended in an amazingly accurate British voice.

She looked at him in awe, but then gained a thoughtful look.

"Am I Project X?" she asked with no judgment.

He tilted his head, "…Yes. I was sent here to monitor you, though I've taken it upon myself to teach you and gotten quite attached. I suppose my superiors would be unhappy at that revelation. Now…how about I continue to play  _Moonlight Sonata_  and you can practice your ballet? I hear you've been drifting from it."

"I'm bored," she admitted, moving some things aside and then beginning to move on her own without music.

He went to the piano and started playing.

"But you like ballet."

"I don't like the classes."

"Then stop. You don't have to take classes when you can dance on your own."

He played on and she danced.

The next day, she waved goodbye to him from her spot in the family car. And then they were driving off to the airport so they can visit her Uncle Ben. A huge box of things was on her little lap and she was disgruntled as she held it, glaring at her father who had been the one to dump it on her.

"What is it?" she asked distastefully.

"Junk," her mother replied helpfully.

"Family heirlooms," Ron humphed.

"We're going to try to pilfer it off on Ben," Judy supplied.

"No, it's going to him for  _storage_. Until you're ready to have it. It's yours," Ron claimed loudly.

Sam opened it up and looked inside.

"Why are you giving me junk?"

Ron grumbled to himself and Judy smiled in triumph.

* * *

The visit to Uncle Ben was because of his invitation to come with him to his boss' party ball for his employees. His boss was apparently very rich and handsome and all this stuff her Uncle Ben gushed about, but she hardly paid attention.

She was bored.

She always got bored easily and she always shied away from people. So, with a dancing lilt to her feet, she abandoned her drunk mom, dad, and uncle and gravely made her way out of the ballroom and into the empty and dark hallways to explore.

"I tell you –you should have just named her Samantha! Why on earth would you plague the girl with a name like Samuelle?"

"It was all we could think of! Plus the boy name was already written down, so we had to fudge it or something. Samuel was all on our heads at the time anyway, so we just ended up basing it around it."

"Don't group me with you. You were the one who said it."

"Damn it, Ron! You were thinking it!"

It was the last she heard as she faded from view and started to look around. A little while later, she saw a large balcony. It was big enough to host a party on its own, but it was empty and the dark of the night surrounded it, with only the stars twinkling down.

She tilted her head curiously, seeing a lone figure sitting on the stone railings, feet steadied on the other side as he looked up somberly at the stars. She stepped back and made to leave, but her shoe scuffed against something and made a loud noise, attracting the person's attention.

"Who's there?"

Sam frowned to herself before coming forward and watching him, still tilting her head.

"I'm Sam Witwicky," she announced quietly, vaguely amusing him.

"Well, Samantha, I'm Dylan Gould. It's a pleasure to meet you, but why aren't you with your parents?"

"They're busy arguing about my name with my uncle," she said frankly.

He laughed out loud, throwing his head back and bursting out with laughter. It slowly died down and his smile gradually became bitter.

"That's…nice, Samantha," he turned back to his original position, his expression once more sorrowed.

"I'm in a bit of trouble, love. I hope you don't mind, but I don't feel up to company," he murmured.

Drops of rain startled her and she noticed it was starting to sprinkle a bit. Her blue and black plaid Lolita dress was going to be ruined. She frowned. But…

She looked back at him and he turned again to face her, wondering at her continued presence near him.

They traded a look that said more than it was supposed to, and both of them were surprised at how much it meant to each other and themselves. And suddenly everything was understood. Still, Dylan forced himself to look away, hands gripping the railing tightly.

So Sam surprised both of them when she practically tossed herself at his back and hugged him tightly.

"It's a wonderful life…so please don't give up just yet," she murmured, peeking around him to look at the ground below from where he was highly perched and instinctively knowing where his thoughts had been heading. "Don't let go."

Even more surprised and yet a feeling of gratefulness and strangely happiness started welling up in him, Dylan turned around in her arms and grabbed onto her tightly, holding her to him as tight as possible. The rain splattered down on them, becoming harsher, and making tracks down their faces and masking tears.

It was strange to find a kindred spirit like this.

Started 11/10/11 –Completed 11/11/11


	2. Has the Bitterest Taste

Her eyes blinked widely, almost owlishly at him.

"What?"

He rolled his eyes.

"You're entering high school as a freshman now, right? So you'll need something to do your work on. Hence, I'm getting you a computer."

"Really?" she asked excitedly, now that she was sure of what she'd heard from him.

"Really," Dylan Gould smiled fondly, recalling their meeting two years before. "And I'm getting you new glasses," he almost scrunched up his nose, seeing the glasses perched on hers.

Big, round, stocky horn-rimmed glasses that magnified Sam's hazel eyes and were just plain too big for her small face. They really just had to go…

"Why would you do that? These are perfectly fine and functional, and I only really just need them for reading," Sam grabbed her book again and sat against his chair, comfortably sitting on the floor by his feet.

" _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ ," Dylan murmured, reading the title of her book. "You're reading that again?"

She hummed happily. "It's my favorite book."

"Well, mark your place. We'll be going to get your computer and then glasses after. I'll go ahead and buy one for your parents too. Lord knows they wouldn't want to go to your room and have to use your computer all the time to look for things."

"I wonder how they're going to pay for the internet," Sam wondered aloud to herself, tapping her lips with a finger in thought.

"Don't worry, it's taken cared of," Dylan waved her off, and she looked at him suspiciously before choosing to dismiss it. "If you're good, I'll teach you to drive."

Sam postured and fluttered her eyes, immediately getting a laugh out of him as she mocked-obediently lowered her head demurely.

This was one of the many visits Sam had taken to visit Dylan over the last two years since meeting each other. Sam had drastically changed from the nearly apprehensive, lonely and apathetic girl she had been when she had first met him. Instead, trying to fit in or at least associate with her fellow peers more, she had chosen to be a rather dorky, odd, and quirky individual. Of course, her fellows still didn't like her new personality and thought she was weird, but she was quite taken and liked who she had chosen to be. It was what she'd chosen and what she was going to stick with.

She and Dylan had an understanding since then, which had resulted in her personality change. And it affected him too, as Dylan was less…lonely. Sad. Miserable. These things and more, and she didn't even know why –only that he'd trusted and connected with her enough to let her in on how he felt.

Despite the 16 year age difference, the two of them were more alike than anyone else could ever relate to them. It was why they exchanged emails every weekend, why she'd promised to email him every Friday and he would send an answering email back right away or by Saturday at least. Even though she had no computer and internet and had gone to the library faithfully each time, she hadn't minded as long as she got to send him a message. And he never skimped out on replying.

She even visited him on some weekends, like she was now. It was better than messaging.

"We can even vidchat now too," Dylan murmured, teasingly softly nudging her arm and breaking her out of her thoughts.

She smiled brightly at him.

"Dylan," a cold voice broke in and they both turned to see his father enter the study. He looked at her and frowned severely. "Girl, leave. I want to talk to my son."

She left without another word, rushing out and knowing not to disobey this man.

Dylan scowled at his father. "She has a name. Use it."

"When will you stop this nonsense?" Howard Gould hissed at his son. "This is embarrassing. People will start to talk, if they haven't already! What does it look like when a grown 30 year old man is hanging around a 14 year old? I insist you stop associating with the girl immediately before you embarrass yourself and dishonor our family name."

"What are you worried about? There's nothing going on; there's nothing wrong. I haven't touched her," Dylan snapped back.

"Yet," Howard sneered, making Dylan reel back and look at him wide-eyed. "You haven't touched her yet."

Then his father promptly turned on his heel and marched out, leaving his son to sit frozen on his chair.

"I haven't touched her…I haven't touched her," he started to mutter to himself, hunching over as he clutched his head.

"Dylan."

His head snapped up with a jolt, and he saw Sam solemn (he hadn't seen her like that in  _so_  long and now it was because of him) and frowning at him.

"I –"

"So are you going to teach me to drive with your Ferrari?" she asked slyly, thankfully avoiding his father's lecture. And he  _knew_  she'd heard; the look in her eyes said it all and that flash of isolation and pain that appeared in her eyes briefly, something he hadn't seen since they'd first met.

So he ignored it and the lecture as well, pushing it away for the moment.

"We'll see," he eyed her cautiously, thinking of his precious baby.

She smirked.

Therefore, it was some time after buying the computers and accessories, her new glasses, and the disastrous driving lesson, that they were back in his study and he was sitting comfortably on his couch and she was lying down on it, with her head cushioned on his lap. He was reading her favorite book while she sketched.

"Can you really sketch like that?" he asked in amusement.

"Yes, now be quiet. You're ruining my concentration," she said shortly, eying him quickly before focusing again. "Say, Dylan? Are you going to stop talking to me?"

He looked at her and winced; definitely now knowing she'd heard his argument with his father. He gave a wan smile, hoping it reassured her when he wasn't feeling too reassured himself. She frowned and just continued her sketching, leaving him to deal with a heavy heart and a thought that she probably wasn't all that reassured.

Abruptly, she tore away from him and tossed her sketchpad to the side, letting it clatter to the ground near him as she rushed away and hunched down under the window, curling into a ball as she buried her face into her knees.

He stood unsteadily, slowly going to make his way over to her. He caught a glimpse of what she'd been sketching before she'd rushed off, and his face turned slightly red as he realized it had been his face. Stopping by her, he tentatively sat on his haunches as he hugged her, making any kind of soothing noises and words to calm her down. She peeked at him from under her arms, remembering some past memories that made her frown.

" _You usually pick me up from the airport yourself, though I don't mind the spacey limo," she quipped, looking inside the limousine._

_He gave her a lop-sided grin._

" _S'drunk. Sorry," he surprised her, slurring out his words._

_Then he turned his face to the leather seats and began crying in them. She crawled closer and held him, watching with wide eyes that didn't blink as often as they should._

Presently, her eyes shuttered and she held onto herself a little tighter.

_Dylan looked strangely at the kids playing nearby them as they ate ice cream on the park bench._

" _What's wrong?" she asked._

" _Huh? Oh, nothing," he replied distractedly._

_He looked back at the kids and smiled softly, watching them with visibly fond eyes. One of the kids' ball flew over and Dylan caught it with one hand. One kid came over, asking for it and Dylan twirled it around a finger expertly before tossing it over._

" _Thanks, Mister! Hey, wanna play with us for a sec?"_

_Dylan looked at her and she just grabbed his ice cream, continuing to watch as her older friend joined the group of kids and humoring them in a game. After it, he was smiling softly as he ruffled some hair and chuckled lowly at their enthusiasm, bending slightly to sort of be at eye level. Then he was walking over to her and was escorting her back, glancing back wistfully at the kids._

" _You know, I think you're a family guy. I think you'd make a great family man," she declared, finishing off her ice cream._

" _Really?" and there was only a hint of hope in his voice._

_But then they were at his home and his father was there and suddenly Dylan's eyes were cold and he was frowning as his grip on her arm tightened._

" _No, I don't think I would."_

_And she knew he'd been referring to what she told him earlier._

_That night she'd caught him by his window and staring miserably out it and at the pouring rain, on his knees and vulnerable and resigned and looking about ready to give up…_

And even though he was comforting her, he'd still moved to be on his knees, and she never wanted to see him like that ever again. So she'd rushed up, dragging him up along with her, and continued her surprise assault on him as she threw him against his bookcase, books flying out and falling to the ground.

She kissed him because isn't that what people really close to each other do to comfort each other?

It burned like fire though.

For him, his mind shut down the moment her lips touched his and then he started to panic when he started thinking again. No, she shouldn't have done that. He shouldn't be doing this.  _He shouldn't be doing this._

But then he realized he actually felt alive and for once he believed. And that she cared. She cared about  _him_.

He didn't know why he wasn't freaking out more about this, and that it was wrong –  _not right-horribly-bad-illegal-stupid_  –but he couldn't bring himself to care. It was like that night they met and they just  _connected_.

He doesn't know why about anything.

So he just took her more into his arms and held her tighter, pressing his lips firmer against hers and moving his hands to cradle the back of her head and to support her lower back. It was only a kiss and it was only going to be a kiss. He'd allow himself just this much.

Her tongue innocently touched against his lips and he started in surprise, letting her take the opportunity to hesitantly slip in slightly. She was about to pull back when his own tongue brushed up against hers and slightly caressed it. He angled his mouth more and continued to kiss her, taking control of it.

Afterwards, he pulled away with both of them breathing hard, though he still held on tightly to her.

"S-Sam, we can't do that again…We…we just can't, okay?" he told her, voice weak.

After a moment, she nodded against his chest.

But he still didn't let go.

It was what she'd told him to do all those years ago, didn't she?

It was all too soon when he'd had to drive her back to the airport so she could go all the way back home, and get ready to start her new school with a new year. Her new stuff was being flown with her and they'd said their temporary goodbyes. He wished he could have had her flown in his private jet, but she insisted…Or even go with her, but he had work to do.

He kept remembering the kiss and his lips burned.

* * *

"So how was your visit to Dylan?" Judy asked, preparing breakfast for the day.

"It was fine. He got me a new computer. He got one for you too," Sam started humming, kicking her feet up and down as she waited on the stool.

"Yeah, we know," Ron said, dodging a warning elbow from Judy.

Sam inwardly sighed, somehow knowing that was the case. How else were they going to pay for internet if not Dylan paying for it? Her parents didn't make a lot of money to be able to afford to pay 'Net bills all the time.

"School today. You're going to be in high school now~!" Judy nearly sing-songed happily.

"Yep, you're now officially a freshman," Ron said proudly. "Good thing Dylan got you new glasses. You would've really been made fun of with those clunky things."

"Dad!" Sam huffed. "I don't even wear them all the time! They're just reading glasses."

"Yeah, yeah. Hurry up and eat, then it's off with you," Judy winked, putting a nice helping of eggs and bacon on her plate.

Soon, Sam was on her bike, carefully gathering up the voluminous bustle skirt of her black dress. If she wasn't careful, the black and white lace and the black frill would probably get caught as she was riding to school, and ruin her nice dress, especially as it was a gift from Dylan (who had embarrassingly learned about her stubborn preference from her parents). She started to peddle her way to school, excited at what should be a new year and a new start.

It was rather boring though. In class, she took notes (or pretended to at times) and either idly sketched things at the side of her papers or traced a finger on the diamond pattern of her dress. When it was lunch, she hesitantly got her food and sat alone at a table in the corner of the lunch room, feeling miserable.

She hadn't really made any friends or talked sociably to anyone. It was kind of depressing and she was tempted to find the nearest computer and message Dylan. But then, she remembered he was probably busy working and she shouldn't bother him.

So she started finishing her food, not even noticing when there was a group approaching her until they were right in front of her, and a dark shadow was around her space.

"Really, who wears a dress to school? I get it for picture days and shit, but damn –no one freakin' dresses up just for a bunch of useless days at prison for kids," a wavy blond hair, blue-eyed, and leanly muscled –Sam could swear he was definitely going to be a future jock, just looking at him and his looks –male said.

"Trent, it's not even dressing up. That dress is so childish," the girl who spoke was really, really pretty, Sam could admit. Pretty blue eyes, tan skin and dark hair, Sam felt even more inferior than with just their words.

The others in the group shot meaningless other insults, but it was the first two that really cut deep. She could only clench her hands and bow her head, hiding the tears welling up in her eyes.

And then suddenly, she felt cold on her head and something trickled first down her neck and then her face.

She jumped up and shrieked, looking down at herself. She could only thank God when she realized it was just water, which meant her pretty dress from Dylan wouldn't get ruined. But she was totally soaked now, at least her top was.

Sam looked to see the pretty girl holding an empty water bottle casually with her fingers, looking down at her with cold, blue eyes and a sneer on her face.

_**What**  had she ever done to her, this girl she didn't even know?_

"Nice one, Mikaela!" random members of the group cheered on, though it was strange to see the first boy who'd insulted her look surprise and uncertain.

But then he sneered as well and took her tray and flipped it to the side. She was glad none of it got on her at least.

"Tch, let's go and leave this loser alone," he said, leading the way.

She waited until they'd all left and people stopped staring before she grabbed her backpack and ran out of the school, heading straight for her bike and refusing to cry. It didn't help any, as she started crying anyway, but it helped her not think about it.

Instead of skipping school to rush home (where her parents probably were), she headed straight to the library, where she headed to a computer in the back and logged on. Even if he was busy, even if he was working, she really wished –no  _wanted_  him to answer her back and tell her everything was going to be okay.

Hesitating only for a moment, she logged onto their private chatroom and hailed him, hoping he'd get a message that she was. She blinked in surprise, tears starting to dry, when Dylan almost immediately answered.

_What's wrong?_

She paused, thinking if she really wanted to blurt out everything that had happened. She didn't want to bother him when he might be busy or burden him with teenage angst or something…

_Sam?_

' _Well, it's too late now,'_  she thought, starting to type out what had happened and that she wished she could be there instead right now. For awhile, that's all they did was text back and forth, after he'd comforted her and now was trying to take her mind off of it. They talked idly about all sorts of stuff, from meaningless things to how her family was doing.

_Hey, Dylan? Did I interrupt something?_

_Hm? No. I was just in a very dry meeting (still am) and having my ears yakked off, so I'm glad to be talking to you at the same time. Saves me from dying of boredom :)._

She smiled widely and wrapped her arms around herself happily, closing her eyes wistfully.

"Sam?"

She sat up, startled, and saw Dutch coming near with a worried look on his face. She looked at the time and saw it was nearly two hours after school had ended. She hadn't realized she'd spent so long online with Dylan.

"Guten Tag, Herr Dutch," she greeted with a small smile.

"Tag," he greeted back. "And you know you're welcome to just call me Dutch or Klaus, shatz."

She nodded and he took a chair and sat near her. She briefly took a second to type out that she'd message Dylan later before turning her attention to her long-time German friend.

It's been years since he's called her fräulein, and she kind of missed it. But he'd told her it was less appropriate for her now that she was getting older and bigger, and he'd taken to calling her 'shatz' or 'schätzchen', which was a more…cuter form of the German endearment. She twitched inwardly. He also, when he was just plain being all silly, would resort to the even cuter form 'shatzi' and she would just be embarrassed as all hell about it.

"Your parents just got a call from the school. They said you'd skipped the last two classes of the day, but they got a tip from someone at the cafeteria about…what happened. They called Judy and Ron, who called me. I had a feeling you'd be here."

Reminded of earlier, Sam frowned and looked away.

"Ah, it's okay, schätzchen! Let's get some ice cream, alright?"

She smiled tentatively and agreed.

She ended up staying up all night messaging Dylan, on a full stomach of rocky road ice cream.

For the rest of the week, she refused to dress up in her usual dresses for school, choosing instead to wear boyish clothing. She wore baggy jeans and whatever t-shirt she had, putting on a huge hooded sweater over to complete the look. When she got home, though, she dressed herself in her dresses and curled herself in front of her computer or hung out/had lessons with Dutch.

School itself continued to be boring. She kept to herself and did alright for the most part, though she admitted she had some trouble with math. And it was because of this that she found herself on a less than ideal path, sitting side by side with Trent DeMarco, one of the first of her harassers.

"Miss Witwicky," the mathematics teacher hesitantly sounded her name. "I know you do well in your other classes, but I have to admit you are doing less than is savory in this class. Not that you don't try, only you don't seem to be getting it as well or it takes a bit more."

Then Mr. Walker turned to Trent.

"You, Mr. DeMarco, on the other hand…are completely unmotivated and you also seem to have trouble with the tests. You also have problems with certain types of problems. If you want to make it to JV, Mr. DeMarco, you're going to have to try harder at your studies. In all of them," Mr. Walker gave him a stern glare.

Trent looked back unhappily while Sam hmmed and rocked a little on the tips of her feet, looking unaffected and generally cheerful. The other two glanced at her warily before the matter was back at hand.

"I propose a mutual tutoring meeting between you two, with both of you helping each other out with your individual problems. Mr. DeMarco, you can help Miss Witwicky work on her math better, while Miss Witwicky can help you focus on your studies and motivate you to do better, and help you adjust to tests and the problems you're having trouble learning. The two of you can do this sample test now, to gauge your strengths."

Sam airily walked over and grabbed one.

"You're the only teacher so formal, Mr. Walker. You don't have to call me by my weird last name. Just call me Sam."

Trent also grabbed one, but more huffily.

"Mr. DeMarco's my dad," he told him shortly. "So just Trent."

He'd much rather be with Mikaela or with his other friends right now.

Half hour later and they were done, handing it in and waiting for their results.

"Trent, as expected…Sam, did you use a book or something?" Mr. Walker narrowed his eyes, inwardly confused.

"Hm?" she tilted her head.

"The test ranges from questions Algebra I to Statistics. You've managed to answer the more complex questions correctly while being incorrect on many of the lower ones."

Sam shrugged. "No, I did the test myself."

Mr. Walker frowned and thought to himself, while Trent looked on curiously and yet also strangely. The teacher walked to the front, writing out two problems on the white board.

"The one on the left is a regular Algebra I problem like the ones we're learning. The other is a Calculus problem. Solve them, Sam," Mr. Walker instructed.

Sam walked over and glanced at the board, before heading to the Calculus problem and not taking too much time with it. Then she moved on to the Algebra I problem and her eyebrows furrowed. She took much longer on this one, and in the end still got the answer wrong.

Both teacher and Trent's eyebrows rose.

"What the hell? Are you some kind of genius or idiot savant?" Trent muttered. Then he glanced at the Algebra I problem and inwardly snorted. "Never mind. Definitely an  _idiot_  savant."

Sam hummed as a response, though she mentally pouted that he'd emphasized the 'idiot' part of that. It wasn't her fault she couldn't get the more simple stuff. Complex problems just seemed to be easier for her.

"I think complex problems are much more easier for you than lower-grade problems," Mr. Walker concluded in confusion, not sure how that could be.

Sam shrugged again and it was decided that she would definitely help Trent out with the more complicated problems, like ones he'd been having trouble with. The teacher set them to work now, to get started and begin the whole thing, and hopefully set up a schedule and arrangement suiting between the two.

While he disappeared off to grab some coffee from the teachers' lounge, the two quietly worked together. As much as Trent seemed to not want to be there at first, he gradually loosened up and soon seemed to be a bit more amiable.

"Thanks…y'know. For all this. It kind of really does help," he muttered, not looking at her.

"Oh…you're welcome," she really didn't know what else to say to that.

It was silent before Trent spoke again.

"I'm sorry about the other day," he said quietly. "I know I'm a mean person and I'm not going to lie about that or excuse it or anythin'. I know I am and I acknowledge that part of me…But you didn't deserve that and it went too far."

"…"

" _I_  actually thought you looked rather  _cute_ in that dress," he admitted, turning red at the admission.

She blinked and turned red herself, but she gave a small smile in response.

Started 11/12/11 –Completed 11/13/11


	3. Amazing Just the Way You Are

"So has anyone asked you to Homecoming?" Trent asked her, flipping through the book in boredom.

Sam scrunched up her nose. "Why do you ask?"

One of her straps fell off her shoulder and he idly pushed it back up with his pencil, going back to his book a second later.

"I hate this."

"I know," she said in amusement, continuing to fill out the application in front of her without pause.

"Why do you want to work? It's such a waste," Trent huffed, retreating from the book and finding a hockey sack to throw in the air and catch. He busied himself with that for awhile.

"'Cause I'm not rich like you," she retorted.

"But you got your sugar daddy –"

She threw a pillow at him, knocking him off the bed.

"Don't call Dylan that," she frowned at him.

He held up his hands in surrender.

"Got it, got it. Anyways, back to what I was asking. Anyone asked you?" he asked curiously. "We could always go together."

Sam finally looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't you going with Mikaela, your girlfriend who severely dislikes me?"

He forced out a laugh, inwardly preferring to go with her. "Uh, right. I meant, you can come with us."

"No thanks. I wouldn't want to be a third wheel and I have a feeling Mikaela would dislike me even more. Besides, I have a date."

Trent stiffened up in just the slightest of jealousy, frowning at that bit of news. Then he turned to look at her in shock, preferring that reaction to be a bit normal, and just looked at her questioningly.

"Johnny asked me," she mumbled, going back to her application.

Trent recoiled and nearly let his lips curl in loathing.

"Really, Sam? You actually accepted? I mean, the guy's got this rep with the girls, about being picky and kind of a jerk."

"You hang out with him," she pointed out.

"No, he's part of the clique I hang out with. I dislike him personally," Trent scowled.

"Well, he was nice to me," she muttered.

He inwardly scoffed. "Johnny Dwight is a menace."

"Yeah, yeah. Say, can you bring me to Burke's Coffee Shop, so I can hand in my application?" she smiled at him sweetly, ready to put on the puppy eyes should she need to.

He rolled his eyes and nodded, and they took a break from the study session to go drop off her application to the manager. Since no one else had applied, the manager did a quick interview and then she was immediately hired. She cheered and Trent looked on in amusement.

"How about we go for some ice cream for celebration?" he offered, smiling when she gave another cheer and dragged him out back to his car.

"It's so nice being a sophomore," she chirped up happily. "Jobs, permits, and getting to be more responsible."

Trent's face twisted at that. "No way. Who really wants to become more responsible?"

"One, I was being sarcastic at that last part. Two, you only say that because your goal in life is to be like Van Wilder."

Trent hummed in agreement, completely enthused by that and not even denying it.

"That's a pretty dress. I like the purple lace on black. Another gift from Dylan?" he asked, tapping his hands on the steering wheel of his truck.

"No, this one was sent by Uncle Ben," Sam lovingly spread her hands down her skirt.

"Well, it's you. The style's very you," he commented, knowing she knew he meant the style of dresses and not just that one. After the whole Mikaela and him and the others gang up in the beginning of freshmen year, Sam had been a lot more cautious and insecure about her favorite style of dresses.

He'd been taking care to encourage and bolster her about it, considering that he had been part of what started the insecurity.

"So, are you going to wear one of them for Homecoming?" he asked.

She hesitated. "I…I don't know," she mumbled.

He frowned. "You should. They're pretty and you'll look cute in it."

She beamed happily at him. "Okay. I'll just have to find the right one to wear for then."

They continued on back to her home to continue studying, though they stopped by the market to pick up two tubs of their favorite ice cream.

A week later, Sam had a doctor's appointment. She had those on a regular basis, considering they wanted to monitor her and continue to find out what had happened when she was six. If anything else was the matter or there was a change, they wanted to try to at least catch it before it could become worse or try to prevent it at all.

But the news she heard next was not what anyone would want to hear.

"You're sterile, Miss Witwicky."

She swallowed heavily, blinking rapidly.

"Is…is that positive?" she made sure. "Is there no doubt about it?"

The doctor hesitated, but plunged on.

"You're 98% positive of being sterile, but there is always a slim chance –the 2% –that a baby might happen. The case scenario where those proclaimed sterile suddenly are pregnant or have impregnated someone."

"In other words, a miracle baby," she whispered. "Is there any clue as to why?"

"Well…there is nothing conclusive, but it could be because of your diabetes. Diabetes can cause pregnancy problems and can also make others sterile. However, it's too soon to tell and for your age, it's hard to connect the two. Right now, it looks as mysteriously begotten as the quick, fatal illness you suffered when you were 6."

"I see. Thank you, sir. I'll just take my leave now, if we're done?" she kept her tone neutral, trying not to break down already. "And if you could, please inform my parents of this. I…I don't think I know how I'll be able to tell them about this myself."

She was only 15 and already being told she would never have children.

They finished up and she rushed home, not bothering to tell Trent what happened or thank him for the ride as usual. She also rushed passed her parents and refused to talk. They would find out soon enough at any rate.

Sure enough, an hour later there was a tentative knock on her door and her mother's soft voice asking if it was alright for her to enter. Sam didn't answer, continuing to plaster her face against her pillow and hide from the world. Her mother entered anyway.

Judy sighed and sat down next to her daughter's prone form, fondly caressing chestnut locks.

"Sweetie…would you like to spend the weekend at Dylan's?"

Sam slowly looked up at her in surprise, but then began biting her lip hesitantly.

"Please?"

And suddenly, she was being driven over to the airport by a fretting Dutch, who tried to take her mind off of things by making sure she had everything and that she was okay. She knew he'd been told and was thankful he hadn't mentioned it, though his more extreme than usual fussing said he was worried about her and that he'd felt bad about the news.

"I promise, Klaus. I'll be fine and I have everything," she smiled affectionately.

"Alright, schätzchen. If you say so. Remember to call when you get there safely," he returned the smile.

Then she was being rushed through the terminal and into a plane. She closed her eyes and decided to take a nap like usual. However, only some time later was she jolted awake, surprised that it didn't take too long this time. Confused, she nearly screeched when the attendant announced just where they were landing.

_Texas?_

What was she doing in Texas? She wanted to be in Washington D.C. with Dylan! Oh man, what was she going to do? First things first, she'd have to find a phone and call Dylan. He'd help her out of this.

Panicking but forcing herself not to show it, she power-walked out of the plane and through the terminal, getting to the airport and finding her baggage quickly. Now, to a phone…

"Hey, love, what are you doing?" a familiar voice said behind her just as her gaze found a phone.

Freezing for a moment, she quickly whirled around to see Dylan giving her a small grin. She left her bags there as she ran towards him and nearly barreled into his body, clutching onto him tightly.

"Careful now. I'm wearing Armani," he teased softly, but he held her tighter and ran a hand down her hair comfortingly.

"Why are we in Texas?"

"I thought a nice country vacation would do you good. I wanted it a surprise so no one told you. Now come on, you arrived at 5, so we have enough time to go shopping for junk food and then settle down for a nice movie marathon. Tomorrow, I have something special planned."

She felt so happy right then.

He led her to the car, where she eyed the Ferrari mischievously.

"If I let you drive, promise not to make a repeat of your first driving lesson? And…some of the subsequent lessons after?" he teased her again.

"Are you ever going to let that go?" she asked in exasperation, remembering embarrassedly. "Besides, I'm much better now."

"Don't kill my precious then."

After they were done shopping, bringing along with them many tubs of rocky road ice cream and other junk food to munch on for that night, Dylan took over and drove them to where they were staying. A beautiful country ranch home in the countryside, isolated and surrounded by lovely scenery.

"We need to choose a series carefully, as we will watch only movies in that series," Dylan told her very seriously.

Just as seriously, "Of course. Lord of the Rings."

"…James Bond?"

"Lord of the Rings."

"Next time?"

"…Next time."

They settled down on the floor, leaning against the couch behind them as the first movie in the series started and they shared a tub of rocky road. Soon enough, in the middle of the third one, Sam fell asleep, clutching onto Dylan's arm and leaning heavily on him. Her head was cushioned on his shoulder, with her hair tickling his jaw from where he'd placed it on her head.

Shutting off the TV, Dylan sighed and held her closer, closing his eyes as he tentatively nuzzled the top of her head. Letting himself relax, he fell asleep soon after as well.

The next morning, they woke up and Dylan had her take a shower first.

"You can go while I cook breakfast, and then you can eat while I take my turn," he told her.

She pouted. "But I want to eat with you."

Eyes softening, he shook his head. "Fine. We'll eat together first and then I'll take my shower. Good?"

Sam nodded and they split ways, following the plan close enough. And while he took a shower, she looked at the library he had there and happily found something she really wanted to read.

"Not  _the_  Alice, but still a version of Alice," Dylan remarked, finding her there a little later.

His hair was still wet and hung around his face handsomely, causing her to slightly blush. She mentally shook it off and held up the graphic novel in her hand.

"You have  _Alice in the Country of Hearts_!" she said excitedly, lightly waving the first volume in the air.

"You mentioned liking it and reading it online. At least now you can read a legal copy," he grinned at her.

She blushed. "Well, I would get it if I had money. I didn't have a job until now."

"You know you could always ask me for things you want," he reassured her.

She returned to pouting. "No, I can't."

"Why not?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

Sam flushed red, remembering a particular comment. "Because you are definitely not my sugar daddy."

"…DeMarco is still teasing you about that, huh?" Dylan shook his head, some remaining droplets flinging off his hair. "Well…I  _can_  be your sugar daddy, if you want me to," he wagged his eyebrows.

Her red face darkened and she buried her face in her hands.

"I hate you."

He chortled and she peeked up at him and glared.

"Sorry, sorry!" he held up his hands. "Come on. Let's get going."

She huffed, leaving the book opened and 'face-down' on the page she'd left off on, and then hurried to Dylan's side. She was confused when he led her to a rustic pickup truck rather than his Ferrari in front.

"This, Sam, is my first car and my first restoration," he told her in a fond voice, hand softly caressing the metal.

"It doesn't look too restored," she said bluntly.

He laughed. "No, it doesn't, does it? That's because the interior and working parts are, while I left the outside as is. It's…nostalgic," he explained.

She smiled at him and hurriedly went to her seat, admiring the detail inside. He really had worked on the inside. Admiringly tracing the smooth leather of the dashboard, a larger hand covered hers and she looked to her left to see Dylan smiling softly at her.

"Seatbelt, Samantha."

She still hadn't told him that technically that wasn't her name. But there was no way she was willingly telling him her name was 'Samuelle.' How embarrassing…

Sam put on her seatbelt and he started the truck, a smooth purr rumbling from the engine. She closed her eyes and hummed happily at it. And then they were taking off, driving along the country road with no other vehicle in sight.

"Hey, Dylan. Did you read my manga?" she asked curiously.

"Hm? Yeah, actually. It's interesting and cute," he said, glancing at her before looking back at the road.

"If guns and psychotic love are cute," she replied wryly.

He chuckled. "To me it is," he joked.

"Psh. Anyways, who do you think you are, if you were a character?" she asked curiously.

"Me? Well, my dear Alice, I would think I'm…Peter White, the White Rabbit," he declared.

"Peter?" she blinked. "But he's clingy and obsessive towards her and you're totally not like that."

Inwardly, he chuckled a little more, though they slowly turned bitter.

' _Actually, I think I rather am towards you.'_

"But I think he's the most sincerest about caring about Alice and eagerly tries to show it, even if he goes overboard," he explained. "I would want to be the one who genuinely cares for my Alice and do what I can to make her happy."

She smiled, not thinking too much about the underlying meanings he'd masked.

"That's so sweet, Dylan," she murmured. "I wonder how on earth you don't have a girl yet."

He stayed quiet and kept driving.

Sam didn't notice, busy rolling down the window and hanging her head out the window, turning her face towards the sky with closed eyes and loving the breeze and the lovely warmth of the sun. The sun shined down on her, making her seem like she was glowing, and the large smile on her face made her a sight for the older man. Her hair flowed out to the side, away from her face as he drove and she laughed freely, the sound tickling his ears.

They reached their destination, and Sam blinked when she realized it was just in the middle of the road in the middle of nowhere. On either side of the road was classic rural scenery, with the bright sun overhead and clear blue sky. He got out first and helped her out, before unlatching the truck's rear and she saw the nicely wooden paneled truck bed was padded down with two layers of soft blankets and plenty of surrounding pillows. Tucked away in the corner and kept there by pillows, was a medium-sized picnic basket.

"Picnic on the bed of my truck on a gorgeous day, and in complete solitude and peace," Dylan declared.

He helped her up, taking care to gather the bustle of the skirt of the light yellow dress she wore, fingers caressing the soft lace of them. She pulled herself up with a little help from a slight push from Dylan, and then crawled to the middle of the truck bed. He climbed in after her and got out the picnic basket, and placed the food around them. They talked idly about what was going on in their lives and he informed her that he was thinking about creating a museum for his collection of restored cars, as he thought he might as well let the public view them rather than let them sit around and gather dust.

Food finished, they leaned against the side of the truck opposite the lane where cars were supposed to go the opposite direction of their truck. He had his arms around her and they were leaning against each other, her lithe hands clutching onto the side of his jacket. She drowsily laid her head on his shoulder while they just enjoyed the peace and quiet.

Lethargically, they noticed some rather loud noise coming their way, and saw another truck filled with teens all over coming closer.

"Ohh, how cute! I have to take a picture of this! It's so cute and romantic. Marty, you never do something as sweet like this for me!" a female's Texan drawl was heard, the truck moving slower as it came closer.

Sam blushed but Dylan inwardly smirked, getting an idea. He pulled Sam closer, affectionately nuzzling the side of her face and then sliding his lips down to caress her neck, before moving up and planting a soft kiss against her ear. Then he was planting lingering butterfly kisses on her face, turning it towards him.

When her small hands placed them on the sides of his face, stopping him, he was disappointed but knew that of course she would stop his teasing. But she shocked him when she instead leant closer and timidly kissed his cheek and then shyly moved to give him an Eskimo kiss, with him reciprocating and planting his forehead against hers.

They ignored the flashes of a camera and the giggles of females and wolf whistles of males.

The F-15 that flew overhead was also ignored.

And it was to that, that Starscream saw in interest, his wayward ward finally being located in the rural area. Knowing where Dylan's country home was, he headed straight there instead, keeping the scene in his head.

He landed a little ways away from the ranch home, activating the holoform he shared with Barricade and Blackout. He inwardly huffed, balking at having to share anything with anyone. Focusing on entering the home and traveling to the study, he was going to settle himself down for a wait when he saw the opened 'picture book' on the desk.

Grabbing it, Starscream looked at the opened page and noticed a handsome character. Growing interested, he looked at the character's side-profile of his face on page and decided he liked it. Searching through the Internet, he found a colored picture of the man and then started to redo his holoform's image.

Much better. Now he didn't have to share holoforms with Barricade and Blackout and had an image uniquely to himself. Aside from this fictional character of course, but what were the odds of someone in real life (other than him) looking like the character?

Done with that, he settled himself for a light recharge to wait for his charge and his femme acquaintance, preferring to reminisce of the past.

At first, Dylan Gould had been of the interest of Soundwave, when the mech had met the boy at age five in 1979. He'd been brought into the meeting between his father and Soundwave, and Howard Gould had presented his child as whom he'd hoped to be the future Decepticon liaison. Soundwave had agreed with the sentiment, seeing great potential in the tenacious child. Soundwave left Earth then and Starscream had been informed of everything.

He was curious and decided to make an experiment of it, acquiring Skywarp's services in warping him to Earth. Then he met the five year old child that had actually impressed the usually stoic Decepticon. He could see the ambitious fire in the boy's eyes, knowing Soundwave had seen it as well. And Starscream had schemed and decided that it was the perfect situation for him to research and observed the human race through trial and error, starting with this child.

He was a scientist first and foremost, though nothing beat the freedom of the skies to him.

In curiosity and interest, he had then been led to raising the child himself in a way, using Skywarp to continually warp him back and forth. In the process, Dylan had reluctantly become a bit of a sparkling to him and he had learned and observed much of the humans' customs and ways.

Some were funny and some were just plain odd.

He remembered watching the younger Dylan focusing intensely on eating food called ice cream.

_Starscream tilted his head, watching curiously. Perhaps it was a bit presumptuous of him, but humans were such curious creatures._

_Why did they insist on such flimsy armor? Why did they insist on such strange sayings? Why were they so simple and yet complex?_

Since then, he'd been much more informed about the human world and it mostly amused him. There were still things that were odd or unreasonable to him and still more odd things that came into being as the species continued to evolve, but he was endlessly curious about the youngling race.

He hoped Megatron stayed dead…or gone. Whatever the Decepticon leader's status actually was. Besides, he was still feeling a bit vindictive about that last beating he'd gotten before Megatron had left in search of the AllSpark.

The front door was opened and closed, bringing him out of his thoughts. Starscream carefully folded his hands in front of him and waited for his charge to enter, hoping the femme wouldn't come along as well. He wanted to make that meeting a little more special.

Fortunately, Dylan did indeed enter his study without the femme, freezing at the sight of him. Even with the holoform change, there just was no mistake in who it was that was sitting at his desk.

"Starscream," the human muttered in greeting.

"Now, Dylan. You don't seem to be too happy to see me?" Starscream leaned back in the leather chair. "Might it have something to do with the femme waiting for you out there?"

"'Female' or 'girl'," Dylan corrected irritably. "Humans used those terms. And leave Sam out of this."

Starscream waved off his correction. "But I so want to meet her. Please introduce us."

"I'd rather not," Dylan was actually disobedient.

Starscream's holoform raised his eyebrows, inwardly slightly shocked at this. His human charge was usually obedient and compliant with his wishes…

"I see. She must be special, this…girl. You don't want to share, is that it? You want to keep her all to yourself and not let anyone else be with her."

Dylan balked. "No! Of course not. Her parents are with her and have more of a right to her than I do."

"They are her Creators. Of course they do."

"And there is Klaus Beilschmidt, who's been with her longer and more recently she's become friends with a schoolmate her age, Trent DeMarco," Dylan argued.

Starscream hmmed. "And yet, I can tell you consider this Klaus seems more like a paternal/guardian figure and this Trent is too immature and young for you to consider a threat. You consider me a threat, don't you, Dylan? That's why you're protesting so much against her meeting me. You feel  _threatened_  by me."

Dylan flinched and glared. "O-of course not. That's not it at all."

But Starscream had already deduced the man's hesitation and didn't bother to hide his smirk.

"So then introduce me."

Dylan sighed in resignation and nodded, leading the Decepticon to meet Sam.

"Sam, you in here?" he called out.

"In here!" Sam's voice sounded from the kitchen.

He went there and Starscream followed, eager for a new "specimen" to study the habits of.

"Sam, meet…" Dylan trailed off, unsure if he should call Starscream by name.

"Dupre," the mech answered silkily, taking on the name of the character whose image he'd taken.

"Dupre," Dylan muttered. "Dupre…meet Sam."

"I'm sure it's a pleasure," Starscream formed a smile on his face to put the girl at ease, holding out a hand.

Sam uncertainly took it, wondering why this man looked rather familiar.

Started 11/20/11 –Completed 11/20/11


	4. Homecoming Queen

Meeting Dupre…had been rather weird. Dylan's friend had questioned her endlessly, and she was sure by the end of it that he knew almost everything about her that wasn't personal. Afterwards, Dupre had joined them in finishing  _The Return of the King_  before they decided to start  _The Matrix_  trilogy.

He seemed oddly intensely fascinated by the films.

These were the thoughts that bothered her as she was in school. Unfortunately, she tuned back in to her coach yelling that she could do it and that she shouldn't give up, in her worse class –P.E.

She was not athletic. At all.

Trent smirked up from where he stood underneath her, shaking his head and looking like the poster boy for athletes in his gym uniform. She glared down at him, clinging tightly to the rope she was supposed to be climbing.

"You can do it, Witwicky!" her coach yelled again.

"Oh hell no!" she yelled back, scrunching her eyes closed and refusing to look back down.

Too high, too high, too high…

She tried to will her arms to move and help her climb to the top, but she was stuck frozen to her spot. She wiggled just a bit closer before stopping, arms getting even more tired. Hugging the rope close to her body with one arm, she reached up with the other and barely scraped the top with her fingertips before her arm gave out and she let go, falling to the ground rapidly and with a scream.

Her coach caught her with a sigh.

"Well…at least, you reached the top this time."

Sam looked sheepishly at him and shrugged. He put her down and turned his attention to a bunch of chattering girls, starting to reprimand them, while she trotted over to Trent who sighed again.

"When will he learn? You're just not an active kind of person."

"Hey, at least I try. Unlike those girls," Sam pouted, pointing out the group that their coach was lecturing.

"You should still be getting an A, considering your attitude and the fact you try," Trent nodded, thinking about it. "Even if you suck at P.E. That, there's just no helping."

She huffed and slapped his arm.

"Still going with Johnny?" Trent's mood turned sour.

"Uh, yes. He hasn't said otherwise and just earlier he'd asked if it was alright to meet at the gymnasium instead for the dance."

"Whatever. Anyways, you start your job today too, right?"

Sam began telling him excitedly all about it, showing him how much she couldn't wait to start. He just told her he still didn't see the point and would much rather party.

After school, she headed home and changed, then headed straight to work. It was two hours into it that something interesting happened, and she was sure it was one of those weird meetings.

"Café Americano, double shots," a man in a suit and wearing sunglasses leaned on the table.

She blinked.

"Oh…okay. Coming right up," and she turned to her manager (why were they the only two working?), who taught her how to make it.

"You can take a break after this," her manager told her.

Grateful but not knowing what to do, she just shrugged and grabbed the Café Americano to deliver to the odd customer.

"You there, you look like a nerd or a geek," the man said upon accepting his drink.

She gaped.  _Say what?_

"Do  _you_  believe aliens exist? A colleague of mine says they don't, but I'm arguing for them. Therefore, I need a guinea pig to bounce ideas off of," he told her seriously, but the content was so ridiculous she couldn't help giggling in her head.

"Okay," she had nothing better to do and she was on break.

"Fantastic! I am Seymour Simmons and I'm going to pick at your brain," his voice continued to be serious.

She sweatdropped.

"Uh…right. I'm Sam Witwicky. So…let's get to it!"

A half hour later, with break over, Sam went back to work and Simmons left the café. He turned a corner and took out his cell phone, placing a call.

"No, all evidence points to no knowledge of what she did when she was younger or that she has any knowledge relating to extraterrestrials or NBE's. I will continue to monitor her. Yes, understood."

He got into his car and then continued onto his own work, though he had originally been stationed at an unknown location to all…but placed in Hoover Dam, a huge in-your-face monument. It was as closely an oxymoron in the physical as any could be.

A week passed, with Simmons being a recurring customer at her job and coming at the same time. She also spent her break talking with him, finding him a strange but funny individual. Some of the things he said and came up with…

She shook her head.

Now Homecoming was coming up that night, with the next week starting Thanksgiving Break. She was all excited for it, though she still hadn't decided which one of her dresses she should wear. Her date would meet her at the dance and Trent would be the one driving them there.

With no work that day, she was stuck in her room, panicking over what to wear (at least her mother had already fixed up her hair and lightly applied makeup). Dutch was with her but he was no help, instead adding to the chaos by panicking along with her. No progress was being made as they became whirlwinds around her room, trying to decide on the perfect dress for the Homecoming Dance.

There was a doorbell, but they didn't hear. Instead, Judy answered it with a sly smile, directing their guest upstairs. Interrupted with a knock on her door, the two panicking people turned and saw Dylan suavely leaning against her doorway, watching them in amusement.

"You're always amused," Sam accused as always.

"You're just amusing," he countered once more.

He nodded at Dutch, who returned it, before straightening up. Then he held up a slim box and waved it once, handing it over to her. She tentatively opened it, eyes widening in awe as she took out the dress in reverence, running a hand down the soft material in amazement. The dark blue, almost purple, dress was just perfect.

"Ah, pretty," Dutch clapped his hands. "Good job, Herr Gould. We shall leave you to change into it, schätzchen?"

She nodded distractedly, still staring at the dress.

Only ten minutes later, Sam was walking down the stairs to where everyone was waiting, making sure the criss-crossed ruffles on her skirt front was in place and not scrunched up.

"Lovely!" Dutch caught sight of her first, clapping.

Everyone turned to her, each one starting to smile. Judy happily clapped her hands once, sniffling while her father looked a cross between happy and sad.

"My baby's growing up," Ron murmured.

Shyly and ignoring her blush, she peeked towards Dylan, looking forward and yet the most anxious about his reaction. He stood there, a light in his eyes and stunned look morphing into one of strangely somber.

"A dance with your father?" Ron interrupted her reverie, hand out in offer.

Giggling, she took it and waltzed with him.

"Nice job on the dress," Judy muttered to Dylan.

"Thanks," he muttered back, eyes still glued to the happy figure.

"I hope your date treats you well," Dutch said.

"He's nice. I think you'd like him," she said, lips twitching.

Dylan frowned at the thought of her date, noticed by the two beside him.

"I doubt it," Ron scoffed. "Besides, I would like it much better if Dylan was your date," he said mischievously, gliding over to him and offering his daughter's hand.

Dylan accepted it with a small smile, continuing the waltz.

"If only I were a student again…then we could have avoided outrageously priced high school tickets," he said dramatically.

They all shared a laugh about that, interrupted by the door ringing again. Ron answered it this time, Trent standing on the other side.

"Trent DeMarco –"

"Please take care to make sure –"

"Our little princess –"

"Is taken well cared of."

Dutch and Dylan loomed over Ron's shoulders, before he slipped away and let them threaten the poor kid. Judy snickered with her husband. With bodyguards like those two, who needed overprotective parents?

"Pictures!" Judy saved the boy, whipping out her camera. She'd taken pictures earlier, but no one had noticed.

After awhile of taking pictures, Trent was leading her out and to his truck, where Sam could see Mikaela waiting in boredom. She hesitantly entered, sitting in the middle of the two. Mikaela immediately looked away from her, ignoring her as she stared out the window.

After that first time, Mikaela hadn't done anything else to her, other than ignore her existence or glare at her, especially when Trent would dare to approach her during school time.

Inwardly frowning and sort of shrinking in on herself, she tried to ignore the uncomfortable air in the truck as they headed for the dance.

At the Homecoming Dance, she sat at a table and reserved Trent and Mikaela's seats as the two went to go dance and she waited for her own date. Humming to herself, she twiddled her thumbs and wondered what was taking him so long.

And then she saw him walk through the doors…only with another girl on his arm.

She wanted to rush out and cry, blurting everything out to Dylan and Dutch just like that first day of school. But she didn't want to look like a crybaby or a loser, and bother them with something like this. She didn't want them to see her so upset.

But most of all, she didn't want them to know what happened and pity her.

It was humiliating that she'd been stood up like this, after getting so excited about it and happy she'd gotten a date…only to be let down and made like a fool. She should've known; Trent even warned her about him.

It was always like this. Everyone in school either ignored her existence or someone played a cruel joke on her.

If she left now, so early for the dance, they would know immediately that something was wrong and she'd blurt it all out. Then they would get all angry and self-righteous on her behalf. All she wanted was to ignore it and be left alone, and then cry to herself in bed at night with no one knowing.

She resigned herself to staying there until Homecoming was over or close to it.

Partway through the dance, she decided to go to the bathroom and be able to sniffle for at least a little bit. She was in the middle of splashing her face with water when the door opened. She was about to ignore it when she realized it was someone who wasn't supposed to be in the girl's bathroom.

"H-hey, you're not supposed to be here, Johnny," Sam said nervously, hands twitching by her side.

He looked at her and lazily smirked.

"You know, I kind of regret standing you up. You do look cute," he sauntered closer and she backed away. "My date looks and acts like a whore…but you're just plain pretty. No comparison," Johnny's eyes moved from top to bottom, his smirk widening.

Sam really wished the bathroom had something she could use as a weapon.

And then Johnny had backed her against the wall and was right against her, grabbing her wrists and keeping a hold on them. Without warning, he'd forced his mouth on hers and stopped her from screaming, Sam tasting the alcohol. The drinks must've been spiked.

Suddenly, she was really glad she had her first kiss with Dylan when she was 14 (even though she hadn't understood the implications of such a thing back then), rather than having her first kiss stolen by the jerk in front of her.

Even though she wasn't a physical or athletic person, she did know that there was one thing she could do in this kind of situation. She slammed her knee to his groin and then didn't pause before rushing out of the bathroom.

That is, to run into the arms of another friend of Johnny's. Asshole brought his friends into this…

They started shoving her around in circles, laughing and jeering and stealing gropes and kisses. Tears pricked her eyes but she didn't want to cry in front of these bastards. There was no way she'd show weakness like that to  _them_.

Johnny had come out from out of the bathroom not long after she had and had watched for a little bit before joining in.

"What the hell is going on?" Trent's voice interrupted the whole thing, and the group turned as a whole to see him at the entranceway, glaring at them.

Sam choked back a cry and slammed her foot on the guy who had her right then. He released her with a howl and she rushed away, passed a shocked Trent and back into the gymnasium, hurriedly wiping the tears out of her eyes.

"Well, well, if it isn't Witwitchy," the girl Johnny had on his arm earlier had blocked her way. "Got a present for you."

And then she and her group of girls, Sam vaguely recognizing them as the usual group the P.E. teacher scolded on a regular basis, dumped the bowl of water on her. Glad again that it was water and thinking they probably didn't want to waste the alcohol, she stood there shivering and in shock.

Water dripping all around her, she stared at the group, who started to get antsy and backed away quickly (did they think she was going to pull a Carrie or something, and just start going psycho and kill everyone?). Swaying, she started to run again, rushing out of the gymnasium just like she had rushed out of school that day.

* * *

"–Yeah, yeah. She left. No. She's not answering. Just wait here? Fine. You're on your way? Did you try calling her? No, I got it. Should I call her again? No, I'll wait for Dutch here," Trent continued on the phone with Dylan, confirming what to do after having called them and telling them what happened.

So he settled for a wait, which wasn't actually too long. Dutch came screeching into the front of the school in his dark green 1972 Gran Torino, startling the hell out of Trent who'd been waiting there, and also earning admiration for such a cool car.

"D-Dutch?"

The blond smiled at him, but it seemed off.

"Trent. You know what I need you to do? You see that forest off to the side? I need you to lure the guys there. I'm sure the school will take care of the girls, since that whole thing happened right in front of everyone, but the guys didn't do that and besides…it's a little more personal with them."

Trent gulped and hurried to do so, trying not to think about what the man was about to do. Dutch looked like he meant business.

While the teen left to do his part, Dutch pulled a pair of leather gloves and put them on, followed by a ski mask and what looked suspiciously like a crow bar. Paired with his black, nondescript clothing, Trent was right about not wanting to know.

As Dutch dealt out some punishment, Dylan had driven over to the park. He parked near where he thought she would be and began searching around, calling out for her. He found her after awhile, hiding in a group of bushes. Kneeling down next to her, outside of her hiding space, he spoke.

"You know, you should have just gone home. We could have pigged out on some ice cream," he started out nonchalantly.

Her sniffling quieted down.

"Of course you would know where to find me," she muttered.

He cracked a grin at that.

"Sure do. Now come on, love. Let's head home."

Slowly, she stood up and he echoed her, placing his jacket around hers.

"You're shivering, Sam. And soaking wet. You're going to catch a cold at this rate," he frowned.

She ignored it, not wanting to remember what just happened.

"At least it's not pig's blood," he quipped.

She glanced down at herself. "What? Did they really want to remake Carrie or something? Too bad I don't have the super cool psychic powers to go along with it."

He laughed. "Next time they want to pull a Carrie, we should play along. Dutch and I'll work on the outside and mess things up supernaturally, and you can just stand around and stare creepily at everything."

She smiled a little at that, and he was just grateful for something out of her. He led her to his car and glanced sideways at her, noting she still looked dejected and disappointed.

"Stay right here," he told her, going to his car and fiddling with the stereo system.

" _Nobody knows where my Johnny has gone, Judy left the same time –"_  came blasting out of the speakers.

She couldn't help the laugh that burst out of her mouth, though she would probably laugh even more if the girl's name _had_  been Judy.

"Can I have this dance?" Dylan came back, asking her with a grin.

She took his hand and slow danced with him, inwardly shaking her head about the whole thing.

"We can have our own Homecoming Dance right here," he murmured into her ear, and she buried her face into his shoulder to hide her bright face.

" _It's my party and I'll cry if I want to~"_

Well, it was Dylan and it wasn't those stupid boys.

"Cry," he patted her head.

Why does it always seem like he knew her better than she did?

But she let herself cry and he held her.

They slow danced for the rest of the night until midnight, listening to songs from his car's stereo.

In the meantime, Dutch was observing his handiwork. Trent stumbled onto the scene, eying the damage with wide eyes and a gawking mouth. Every single guy he'd seen harassing Sam earlier, were spread around, moaning or completely silent, and looking like they'd gone through hell.

Dutch was just whistling, wrapping up the crow bar and looking very eerie.

"Not a word about this, eh?" he smiled through the mask at the teen.

"N-no way," Trent shook his head.

Even knowing he wasn't going to say anything because he'd wanted Sam's revenge as much as they did, with Dutch smiling creepily at him like that was just extra incentive.

That was also the same night that was the anniversary a certain little bee crashed landed onto Earth in 2003, ready to complete his mission.

The Autobot Bumblebee had made it to his destination two years from present time.

* * *

He had been there for a month. One month of researching humans and leads, and for awhile he had nothing. Then…a simple article about the "Ice-man" when he'd been searching for any sightings about extraterrestrials and learned of a man named Captain Archibald Witwicky.

From then on, he followed that trail. He'd gone to see the man's last home, finding the remains of the asylum in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He found Archibald Witwicky's records and scanned them. He then went in search of Clarence, the man's son, which led to more descendants. First the oldest, Ben Witwicky.

After, it seemed a dead end. He'd even undergone several attacks by some human organization and twice by Barricade. Finally, he learned of the younger brother, Ron Witwicky, and had located him and his family.

He watched the last of Archibald's descendants interact, gaining a fascination for the youngest. And then there was that time where she ran out of her school, distressed for some reason. He didn't know what had happened or what had upset her, and it had in turn upset him. He'd sworn then and there he would make sure no harm would ever befall her.

Since then, he'd watched over and monitored the family, specifically Sam Witwicky, while continuing learning to express himself and communicate efficiently through his radio. The AllSpark had no more clues turning up, so he'd bide his time and keep watch over this family, and maybe clues to the AllSpark might come up through them.

Now, he'd cautiously been following her around as was usual these days. It was…her Homecoming Dance, he recalled. Hacking into the school's video feed, he kept an eye on her and seethed as he watched those boys and then those girls harass her.

He nearly decided to go ballistic and blow his cover when his monitored line of Sam's male friend indicated a call to one of her other friends. He listened and calmed down a little, letting the humans go on to take care of things. Seeing the blond take out the trash satisfactorily in the forest, he rushed to find her, ending up seeing the tail end of Dylan Gould leading Sam to his car and then starting up a dance of their own in an empty park.

Bumblebee settled down more calmly, watching the two comfortingly dance along to the peaceful night and the soothing breeze, soft songs playing and rolling over the two. It relaxed him watching the two, and he felt rather protective of their close union.

Yes, he was pleased that Dylan had managed to soothe and cheer up Sam. Looking through his time here and watching over them, he remembered countless times Dylan had done so, and knew the man was always happy to do so and was always able to make her happy and taken cared of.

Meanwhile, Starscream was busy staring at Barricade blankly.

"Do you know how annoying that is?" Barricade snapped at him.

"Yes. That is why I do it."

Barricade forcibly kept both of his servos in front of him, in order to stop himself from strangling the other mech.

"What's your problem anyways?" he grumbled.

"You visit my charge a lot, don't you?" was what was unexpectedly said.

Barricade looked at him in surprise, but nodded. "Yes, why? I frequently drop by Dylan's home while away from my patrols."

Starscream hmmed. "And do you take note of any of his visitors? Particularly ones he's really close to?"

Barricade huffed through his vents. "No, because I'm not his babysitter. Besides, he's  _your_  charge. You're the one who took the interest in him and decided you were going to be his Creator figure."

"Ah, but I thought you liked him."

"Course I do…but I'm still not his babysitter. And I'm not going to nag him about that kind of stuff."

"You've picked up quite a lot of human lingo, Barricade. I'm impressed," Starscream said, though the other mech couldn't tell whether or not the Air Commander was mocking.

"Thanks," Barricade replied sarcastically in turn. "But probably not as much or as well as you, having spent more time on Earth than any of us. You observed and noted the humans much more closely than the rest of us as well."

Starscream shrugged, not bothering to deny it. Barricade picked up on the human gesture, but wisely didn't say anything.

"Anyways, I just ask because I was…curious," Starscream said vaguely.

Barricade became curious himself and waited for more, but the pro tempore leader of the Decepticons didn't say anything else and went back to clinically dissecting the technology he was developing.

Starscream had been curious to know if Barricade had run across Sam Witwicky on one of his visits, and if so why hadn't he reported it to him. But as that was not the case, he would rather keep quiet about it and keep Sam's presence to himself (and Dylan of course) for a little while longer. It would ruin all his fun if he had to share her with Barricade already.

No, he'll stay silent about her for now.

It'll make things much more interesting in the long run. And perhaps he was silent because…a part of him didn't want to share her at all, as like he'd accused his charge of. As if he'd wanted to keep her all to himself…

Ah, but that was such a silly theory.

Started 11/21/11 –Completed 11/21/11


	5. I Want to Be Everything at Once

Sam hummed cheerfully, bouncing on the balls of her feet. And then, just what she was waiting for rolled up in front of her house. Stopping her bouncing, she waited patiently on her porch for the FedEx man to come closer and deliver her genealogy project.

"S'ankyuu!" she took the package from him and signed on the dotted line.

She quickly darted inside and ran up the stairs to her room with her precious burden.

"Thank you, Uncle Ben," she murmured, opening the box to reveal her great-great-grandfather's affects. "And thank you, Dylan."

Cackling under her breath, she carefully took everything out. The telescope was placed aside, as well as the sextant and compass. She saw a glasses case and put it aside, looking at the items critically. The maps she'd asked Uncle Ben to send to Dylan, who'd promised he'd have them professionally matted and then framed and hopefully be arriving just in time for her to bring tomorrow. She also had carefully outlined several generations of her family tree, and then drew a very lifelike tree on a poster board, coloring it precisely.

Glancing at the time, she nearly panicked when she realized what time it was. Putting everything away, she logged onto her computer and searched out a single login name for vidchats.

Clicking it, she saw the other person had already been waiting.

"Sorry, have I kept you waiting long?"

The beautiful woman on the screen smiled.

"No, I just got on. How are you, Sam?"

"Alright. Getting ready for my presentation tomorrow," Sam beamed.

Since the beginning of the year, Sam had tentatively looked online about group therapy sessions to deal with her infertility. She found a helpful site connecting struggling mothers and infertile women who wanted to be mothers. There were different sections to deal with, and it essentially had one woman talk to another woman.

She'd found Sarah Lennox and was found compatible to talk to her, especially with their opposite but relatable troubles. Sarah was a new mother, who was suffering with attachment issues towards her baby pre-birth and now seemed to still be suffering them, along with Post-Partum Disorder. The pairing was supposed to work in that Sam would hopefully help Sarah through her attachment issues and help her get attached to her baby because of being sterile and unable (but wanting to) have babies and work through the PND, while Sarah would give her a sense of motherhood through the bond and help her deal with being unable to have any kids.

"It would be so much easier if Will was here to help out," Sarah said in frustration.

"Have you talked to Mr. Lennox? It might help to vidchat him," Sam questioned.

Sarah looked nervous. "No. I…I've been afraid to try it…He might see how I don't love our child the way I should…"

"You should. It might help  _him_  at least, to see his baby," Sam soothed. "It'll make him happy."

Sarah nodded distractedly, before a loud piercing cry cut into their conversation. Sarah frowned and ignored it, turning her attention back to Sam. Sam shook her head at the webcam.

"No, Sarah. Remember what we talked about?" Sam asked gently.

"I have to try not to ignore the baby," she muttered.

"It's okay. I'll still be here," Sam assured her. "You can bring Annabelle and bring her with you to talk with us."

Sarah disappeared a moment and came back quickly with a cute babe, crying and sniffling loudly. Sadly, Sarah looked helpless down at Annabelle.

Trying to help, Sam greeted the little baby girl and made cooing noises, getting Annabelle's attention and doing silly things that gradually made the little girl giggly and content in her mother's arms.

Several hours later, it was dinnertime. They were all gathered around to eat, when the doorbell rang.

"Go get it, Sam," Judy chirped, looking strangely happy and secretive.

Eying her mother, she did as she was asked and nearly squealed happily. She did throw herself at Dylan though, the man having been the one who rang the doorbell and had been the surprise.

"Dylan, what are you doing here?" she asked, looking up at him from his arms.

He smirked. "Personally delivering your newly framed maps and some good news."

"Dylan! You're so awesome!" she hugged him tightly. "But what's this I hear about good news?"

He winked at her. "Now that is a secret."

"What? But Dylan!"

"Ah uh," he shook a finger at her. "After dinner. I promise."

Reluctantly agreeing, she grabbed his hand and pulled him after her, leading him into the kitchen where her parents sat waiting. Both of them had innocent looks on their faces…too innocent…

Sam glared at them, but decided since they had surprised her with Dylan that they could be forgiven. She sat her older friend next to her and served him first. Afterwards was a relatively peaceful dinner, punctuated with light chatter.

In her room, she stared down the billionaire. Dylan rolled his eyes and flicked her forehead, making her pout and rub her forehead soothingly.

"I'm going to stay here."

She blinked at him. "Huh?"

"I'm going to stay here," he repeated in amusement.

"Wait, in my room?" Sam blurted out.

Dylan sighed and reached over to flick her forehead again, though she leaned away and avoided him.

"No, silly girl. I bought a flat nearby. It's actually about three blocks from your school."

Her eyes widened. "You mean…you're staying  _here_ , in  _Tranquility_?"

"Yep."

"I don't know whether to call you crazy for wanting to live in a boring town like this, or scream happily that you get to be nearby."

"Scream," he approved with a smirk.

So Sam did, giving a huge bounce on the bed and then deciding to tackle Dylan onto it, snuggling up to him while using him as a cushion and lying down on him. He did his best to ignore the straddling part she was doing.

"Make sure to use condoms!" Judy called out nonchalantly, walking passed the opened door and catching a glimpse of the suggestive pose.

"Mom!" Sam yelled, flinging herself off of Dylan and glaring at the now empty doorway with a red face.

Dylan coughed uncomfortably.

"Why is my mom so weird?" Sam muttered under her breath.

"Anyways, I wanted to move  _because_  I'd get to be closer to you. It's just until you finish senior year, and then you'll be in college and I won't get to see or spend as much time with you," he explained, going back to their original topic.

"That's awesome," she beamed at him. "I'll get to hang out with you so much more than I could before! Hey, let me show you my work tomorrow, afterschool, okay?"

"Sure. And then you can help me find the cheapest car lot around here. I've been looking for a new project to restore in my spare time," Dylan told her.

Excited for it, she agreed immediately. They spent some more time talking a little bit more before he had to go. Seeing him out, she gave him a kiss to the cheek and a hug and let him leave, waving goodbye as he got in his car and drove off.

The next day, she was happy to see Dylan waiting for her in the morning. After a quick breakfast, he helped her load her project into his car and then drove her to school. Ignoring the stares and whispers –what was  _Sam Witwicky_  doing being dropped off in a nice, expensive car with an unknown older male in the driver seat? –she grabbed her stuff and headed into school, Dylan promising to pick her up after.

Then school started.

It was the usual, despite the odd discrepancy from the morning. The usual, aside from random and inconsistent (and most of the time rare nowadays) picking and bullying on her from her usual tormentors, she was largely…ignored by everyone. Aside from the teachers, she was virtually invisible to everyone else.

She'd grown to largely not care for it too much, though it was still rather lonely.

"Ready for your presentation?" Trent appeared by her side.

The one good thing since that Homecoming was that Trent was now publicly friends with her and very protective.

"Kind of. Yes. Maybe. I hope so," she shrugged.

"I still say you're an idiot savant," Trent commented. "I can't understand how some things just fly over your head, girl. Though, lately you seem to be catching on to almost _anything_ , never mind your usual setbacks."

Sam tossed a mischievous look over at him.

"Magic."

And then she trounced off, to mysteriously do something that Trent had no idea of. It was apparently supposed to be a surprise for class.

"So, still stalking Witwicky?" Mikaela appeared beside him.

He flinched before frowning at her.

"What do you have against Sam?" he asked her gruffly, looking away.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Nothing. She just irritates me."

She glanced in the direction Sam disappeared off to before she looked away with an unreadable face. Trent's frown deepened, though he still didn't quite get his girlfriend.

"Let's just get to class," she muttered, kissing his cheek distractedly before starting to drag him off.

In the classroom, it was finally Sam's turn for her genealogy presentation. Strangely enough, she wasn't there. The teacher unrolled a piece of paper on his desk and blinked at it.

"Mr. DeMarco, your friend has requested you set up her things for her and then to…call out when you're…done?" he told the teen lounging in the middle of the class, who had been hiding his confusion and worry as he waited for Sam to appear.

Trent got up and went towards the teacher, who handed him the note and…an actually very detailed diagram of where he should put everything. He looked over at the note again and sweatdropped.

_Mr. Hosney, hand this to Trent. Trent! Good ol' pal, do me a favor and set up my things, eh? \\(^0^)/_

He snorted back a laugh at the drawn smiley face before looking over the diagram and starting to set up her things around the room. Then he plopped back into his seat and slumped back.

"I'm finished. You there, Sam?" Honestly, Trent felt like an idiot talking to the air like that. Sam better be coming…

There was a thud. And then several more thuds. Then a loud bang as two sets of booted feet hit against the fiber glass windows outside the classroom. Startled, the whole class turned to watch, gawking at the spectacle.

"There! A major discovery!" a male voice yelled boisterously.

"In with ye, sailor!"  _Sam's_  voice cackled.

The window, unlatched and already ready to be opened, was kicked ajar and an unknown man was tossed inside. Sam kicked herself from the building and then swung back, easily swinging through the window. She landed in a crouch beside the man in a heap on the ground and beside the bewildered Mr. Hosney at his desk.

"Look at this treasure cove!" Sam bellowed. "We've hit the jackpot!"

"Yessir, Captain Witwicky!" the man got up and eyed the items around the room.

The students were ignored, though  _they_  were quite as bewildered as the teacher. Trent almost doubled over in laughter.

"Look, an ancient  _sextant_!" the man pointed, as they darted over to the sextant on display on a tall box set upright, and a miniature stand to show off the sextant.

"Yes, I believe ancient humans used it to direct them to tents so they may engage in the carnal acts of  _sex_ ," Sam nodded knowingly, while her 'sailor' looked hesitant about that. The rest of the class let out quiet snickers. "Come, Simmons! Onward to our next treasure!"

They stopped by the compass on a similar display, but went for the telescope instead.

"This, Simmons, is the  _telescope_! The first x-ray machine in history!" Sam crooned. "Look at that beauty."

"Wait, it's an x-ray machine?" Simmons asked skeptically.

Sam cuffed his head. "Don't question me, sailor! I'm the captain here!"

She then dragged him off to the last display, featuring the compass.

"And this is the compass! It leads you to the direction of your heart's desire!" Sam praised loudly.

"Isn't that from a movie, Captain?" Simmons asked thoughtfully.

"No! Speak not ye of Captain Sparrow, that traitorous pirate and sell out! How dare he enter the movies!" Sam fumed to herself.

"Captain Witwicky, we're wearing pirate clothes of the 18th century while in the Arctic. Why is that?" Simmons deadpanned.

"Shush, it's because!"

"Because?"

"Just because!" she snapped at him.

Well, it  _was_  weird that they were currently clothed in brown slacks and loose poet shirts, with bandannas wrapped around their heads, and Sam wearing the circular cracked glasses of her great-great grandfather.

"…I didn't have enough materials to make anything else," she muttered.

Sam then dragged the secret agent over to the back of the room, the rest of the class turning in their seats to continue to watch the odd presentation.

"And what's this? The last discovery?" Sam asked, taking the edge of a sheet pulled over something hanging on the wall. She pulled it and gasped loud, the both of them cringing back. "Le gasp! It is…the ICE-MAN!" she screamed the last part, making everyone jump in their seats.

A very detailed drawing of a monster, fangs and all, was hanging up.

Sam screamed and twitched and then dramatically held her hands up to the monster and turned away, before swaying and then falling to a heap. She then began muttering to herself and wrapping her arms around her balled-up form, while rocking back and forth.

Simmons tutted. "I guess it's to the asylum for you, Captain."

He then grabbed the back of her shirt and dragged her to the front of the classroom.

"And that is our skit of how Captain Archibald Amundsen Witwicky, one of the important and first explorers of the Artic, made a discovery that made him blind and crazy and locked up in a mental institute," Simmons deadpanned.

"My poor, poor great-great grandfather," Sam sobbed, still on the ground.

"Those instruments on display are real explorer needs instruments. The sextant measures distance between two objects, the compass gives you a direction or a 'heading' when sailing, and the telescope allows you to see from a distance. These maps behind us show the Artic that was explored, and where Captain Witwicky specifically hauled his ship through ice and dragged his workers through to eventually find the discovery he will unknowingly regret, along with an exact article about the story from the time."

Sam poked Simmons repeatedly while tugging on his shirt, pointing at the last thing. Simmons sighed.

"And this is Sam's family tree that she made."

She curtsied and smiled widely.

"Starring Seymour Simmons and Sam Witwicky!" Sam cheered, introducing herself in the third person.

The class clapped loudly and laughed.

Sam inwardly grinned and mentally rubbed her hands.

The bell rang and everyone slowly filtered out, passing comments and congratulations to Sam for an entertaining presentation. Trent lingered behind with an unhappy Mikaela by his side, but Sam gestured for him to go.

"I'll see you in a bit," she told Simmons, who went to wait out the door.

Still, Trent and Simmons waited outside, heads obviously peeking around the door. Sam rolled her eyes, but ignored it.

"So…Mr. Hosney," Sam whipped out her weekly report card fill-in sheet. "Good report, eh?"

Mr. Hosney nodded. "Yeah…a solid B."

Sam blinked and then reran that sentence through her head. She gaped at him in disbelief.

"A solid  _B_?"

Her teacher nodded again. "Yes, you might want to speak a bit more than your associate and it was a bit too theatrical for my taste."

Sam blinked. And then…

"Here comes the waterworks," Trent muttered, Simmons nodding.

Sam started sniffling and then her eyes watered and she stared at her teacher before crying outright and then slightly hunching over and crying into her hands.

Mr. Hosney panicked. "Wait, I take that back! It's an A, Miss Witwicky, an A!"

Sam stopped crying, still sniffling, handing her sheet to him and he quickly filled out her grade. Then she nodded at him and sniffled her way out, stepping out the door and then immediately stopped crying and started skipping towards the exit, Trent and Simmons gaping at her.

"What…what was that?" Trent trotted after her.

"Yeah, what the kid said," Simmons demanded.

"I can cry on demand," Sam smiled innocently, while continuing to walk her way out, not skipping this time.

"…Why you theatrical little actress," Simmons said accusingly.

Sam shrugged.

"You know, I think Mr. Hosney was just messing with you, but you made him panic before he could tell you so," Trent told her.

Sam just smiled innocently again and they followed her to the waiting Ferrari upfront.

"I'm going to my job now, but we can go there to celebrate," Sam told them. "Coffee's on me."

"Perfect. I'm there," Simmons crowed. "The usual, of course."

"I'll come meet you there after I drop off Mikaela," Trent agreed. "Dylan?" he gestured to the shiny Ferrari that had a huge space in front and in back of it, as if people were scared to even come near or park near its glorious self. People stared though, some recognizing it from that morning and glancing at Sam when they saw her walking.

"Yup," Sam bobbed her head. "See you two! And thanks, Simmons, for your help!"

She got closer to the car and then opened the passenger side, slipping in and they only glancing the driver briefly, though he was shadowed by the shade of the tree he'd parked under and couldn't be seen clearly.

"Dylan?" Simmons asked his temporary companion.

"Gould," Trent informed him before nodding at him and then leaving to get Mikaela and then head to his truck.

Simmons frowned, noting to add that to her file. He hadn't known the two knew each other.

At the coffee shop, Simmons sat drinking his Café Americano, subtly watching Dylan Gould interact with his subject and though he wouldn't admit it, his first friend. He scrutinized the other man, trying to figure out how and why the man had gotten to know and befriend Sam, and just what  _was_  Gould's relationship with her. In fact, they looked really close…

Trent was slumped over, yawning and nursing a latte. He blearily glanced around and nearly laughed, seeing Simmons looking like an overprotective uncle and watching Dylan with narrowed eyes, and Dylan hanging all over Sam –smoothly and suavely, but still hanging all over the girl. All they needed was Dutch and things would be all set.

"Guten Tag, everyone!" a German voice greeted as someone entered through the entrance.

Speak of the Devil…

"Tag, Klaus!" Sam hollered back, already working on the blond's usual.

For some reason, Simmons looked like he was slightly gaping at the newcomer. Dylan only nodded in the man's direction before deciding to get up and help Sam, even though he didn't even work there. Trent just leaned back and watched the proceedings.

The manager just ignored everything and worked as usual, figuring it was the best thing to do, especially to avoid getting caught up in the madness.

After some crazy antics, Simmons had to leave and excused himself. He'd only stepped out the coffee shop when he found himself followed by Dutch.

"I know you," Simmons frowned. "You're NSA. Why are you here?"

Dutch tilted his head, observing his fellow government worker.

"Secret Agent Simmons from Sector 7," Dutch greeted neutrally. "I could ask the same thing of you."

Simmons' frown deepened. "No one's supposed to know about Sector 7," he grumbled.

A smirk briefly fluttered across Dutch's lips. "NSA knows everything."

"Or Dominic's being a busybody and paranoid git again," Simmons sneered.

"…Laurence  _is_  a bit paranoid, isn't he?" Dutch mused distractedly. "But he makes it his business to know everything, therefore  _NSA_  knows everything. So either/or. Your pick. Anyways, he's calmed down some since meeting Caroline."

"Should I look her up?"

"You'll be dead before you do."

"Ah, now he's overprotective."

Dutch shrugged before his eyes flitted back inside to the girl they were both watching over.

"I've been stationed here since 2005. Two years ago, we got the okay to start trailing Samuelle Witwicky and watch her for any strange or unusual occurrences, and monitoring her in general," Simmons reluctantly gave out information, knowing he had to in order to get some back.

"Why so late? I've been here since 1996, not too long after the 'Blackbird phenomenon' happened. NSA got their hands on the security tape and immediately started to set things up to have someone fly out and move into the vacant house next door to the Witwicky family. I managed to move in three days before the family came back home, which was only a week since the extraterrestrial incident," Dutch nearly raised his eyebrows high, before managing to keep it schooled.

Simmons eyes bugged out before the man cursed under his breath.

"There were a lot of issues," Simmons' voice sounded like he just ate something bitter. "One of the main ones being her underage status and some other crap I'm not going to go into."

Dutch nodded absentmindedly. "I see. Do your job then, whatever. Just don't get Sam hurt or let her get hurt," a hint of a threat laced the German man's voice.

Simmons actually did arch an eyebrow in disbelief at him. "Really? Like I would ever," he scoffed.

They both nodded in understanding and they turned sharply and split directions, one heading to his car and the other going back inside.

* * *

"So, have we got any good results yet?" Dylan asked her playfully.

"Hmm, we got results, but we have to check them out first to make sure they're perfect," Sam told him, refreshing the page on her computer.

They gathered close to look at the results, with Sam sitting on her chair and Dylan crouching next to her, both of their heads hanging close together so they could share the screen and read at the same time.

"That one looks promising," Dylan pointed at one.

They looked through the website and decided to keep it in mind, still going on to check out others. But then Dylan's phone buzzed and he frowned, glancing at her apologetically.

"I think I have to take this call. If it's what I think it is, then it's important. I'm sorry, Sam. I was really looking forward to looking through all of them with you," Dylan told her remorsefully.

She looked at him slightly skeptically and didn't want to admit she was pouting a bit.

"I swear I really want to look with you," Dylan appeased, running a hand through her hair soothingly. "Keep looking for me? I know you'll find the best one. And we'll still get to actually go to the place together, I promise."

She sighed and nodded, waving a hand out the door and giving him a half-hearted wink. He stepped out to take his call and she unenthusiastically swung back to face the screen and continue searching. She bit her lip, clinking on a link.

_Bolivia's Finest Quality Used Cars and Petting Zoo_

Started 11/27/11 –Completed 12/3/11


	6. Never Know When Monsters are Satisfied

"You know, you could always go back to fighting in space."

"But it wouldn't be as much fun as I do stringing you along. And I get bored oh so easily."

"…Starscream…"

Dylan halfheartedly glared at his surrogate guardian, before deciding to ignore the mech and focus on his phone. He frowned. No text. He hoped he hadn't upset Sam too much by his abrupt leave, but Starscream would've just crashed in and caused problems.

"Checking on your femme?" Starscream had an audible smirk in his tone, one that made Dylan twitch irritably.

"Leave Sam out of this," he said for the something time.

Starscream sighed dramatically. "Oh come on. Besides, she misses me terribly. I hear her asking after me sometimes in your calls. Granted, it's 'Dupre' she wonders about, but  _I'm_  him."

"Don't spy on my phone calls to her," Dylan snapped. "And it's freakin' cold!"

"It's not my fault Soundwave is late," Starscream sniffed, his holoform's nose sticking up arrogantly in the air. "Slagging piece of…well, he likes to take things slow.  _Really_  slow…"

Dylan grumbled more to himself as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, now less enthused about seeing his other guardian than he had been. Still, he worried about Soundwave's reaction to Sam. And he worried about pulling Sam into all this, more than wary about having Sam dropped into the middle of all this alien war shit he'd managed to get stuck in, courtesy of his father.

" _You're not like your father, are you? Money won't be enough…it's power you crave. I can see it in your eyes…I can see the tenacity and the determination that will drive you far."_

He flinched and avoided that memory, averting his eyes to a pile of rocks on the ground. Instead, he focused back to his original train of thought. For now, he would have to work hard to keep Sam safe and out of this whole thing. He refused to let Sam get into this mess and to get her caught in the crossfire.

"Dupre's not real anyways," he muttered. "You come over as him all the time, and Sam believes you're real. I don't like you messing with her like that, and lying to her. I don't want you to hurt her…She's a nice girl."

Starscream eyed the human closely, his human optics narrowed. Dylan was always like this when it came to Sam. Ask him for anything else and his Decepticon loyalty was beyond admirable, even if he disliked more than half of the army. But Sam was a sore point and he was sure that the human cared for this femme more than he would currently admit to.

But he was actually kind of amused about the whole thing and seeing this side of Dylan when it came to the femme. If nothing else, Dylan's reactions to her and anything to do with her were always amusing.

Somewhere else, Sam was also thinking about the mech, although more to do with Starscream's alter ego. Dupre, though she'd known him for some years now (even if it was off and on, with the man popping up randomly), was still very unknown to her. And he was very strange. In fact, she couldn't quite understand how Dupre had survived in the world to now, with how out of touch he seemed with the world or uninformed about everything.

How on earth could he live to now and not know how to use a shower? Hell, he didn't even know  _what_  a shower was.

And microwaves, drills, paper –you would think he was some kind of outdated wizard in the Muggle world.

She focused back in on her computer when she saw Sarah on and hailing her. She minimized the window she was on and clicked on Sarah's icon, wondering what the older woman wanted. She hoped nothing was wrong…

However, judging by the large smile on the blonde's face, she could deduce that the opposite had happened. In fact, she could tell just by the fact Sarah had Annabelle with her and was happily holding on and paying attention to the baby without problems. Waiting to hear the good news, she let Sarah start talking first.

"I've been thinking about what you were saying before and I'm going to do it," Sarah's smile widened. "I managed to get a quick message to Will about it and as soon as he touches down on base tonight, we'll webchat and he can see Annabelle."

Sam beamed at her. "That's great! I hope it goes well and I want you to tell me all about it!"

They chatted some more about it and then about some other stuff, before it was dinnertime and she and her parents were sitting down to eat. Dutch was there too. He, more often than not, came over for dinner. She was a little disappointed to see Dylan hadn't come back yet (she'd been hoping he'd be there to eat dinner with her) and she hadn't gotten a message or call from him since he'd left.

Though it was obvious she was upset by something, and the other three at the table could probably guess at what, they let her be quiet through the meal and let her be.

She was getting ready for bed when she was surprised. Something hit her window, making a small clink! that had her blinking in confusion. At first she thought it was her imagination and was going to go back to getting ready, when it happened again. Hesitantly trailing to her window, she glanced out it and just barely held back her scream of happiness. Opening up her window, she called down to the waiting man.

"Dylan! What are you doing here? And where were you and why didn't you text me or anything?" she half-whispered.

He gestured up at her and then he was grabbing hold of the garden fence decoration and climbing up it, slipping into her room through her window once she'd moved back from it.

"In order –I'm here because I wanted to see you and also apologize in person for leaving and not saying anything," he stated in a rush. "And I was with… _Dupre_ , who's going to be around here sometimes, because the both of us were waiting for a mutual acquaintance, who will also be around. I'm sorry I didn't get to text; things got a little hectic and I thought since you didn't text me either that you were angry at me."

Sam just threw herself at him and hugged him tightly. "Idiot. Of course not. I was just worried I would interrupt you or something. Though I can't believe Dupre is here! Wow. Why is he here anyways? And who's this mutual acquaintance?"

"Yeah, he's here," Dylan grumbled. "It's a long story why he's here. And I'll introduce you to our, uh, mutual acquaintance sometime."

They chatted late until she'd fallen asleep on him, and he vaguely wondered if her parents would mind if he just fell asleep…

The next morning dawned bright and early and Dylan woke up first, glancing at the time. If he was going to get away with this, he'd have to start now. After gently peeling Sam off of him and laying her back on her bed, he snuck back out her window and hurried out the backyard.

"Going somewhere?"

Dylan froze in mid-step, glancing to his side to see Dutch looking at him curiously, a bag of garbage in hand and about to be tossed into the garbage receptacle.

"Uh, to my car?" he smiled hesitantly.

Dutch tilted his head before gesturing to his house in invitation. "You wouldn't have happened to come from Sam's room, would you?"

Dylan's reflexive grimace said it all.

"I got coffee. Judy and Ron don't wake up until two hours from now," Dutch informed him.

Semi-relieved but still wary, Dylan followed the blond man in, letting him wash his hands first and accepting a mug of coffee from him afterwards.

"So…" Dutch prodded.

Dylan shrugged. "I snuck over, we talked late, and it'll look suspicious. Her parents like me, but I don't think enough to not try to kill me for something like this, especially if they think something _else_  went on."

"You'd be surprised," Dutch muttered under his breath. Much louder, "Sam comes over for breakfast some Fridays to brush up on her piano skills, because she doesn't have one at home, so she'll be over a little later. You can take her to school after."

Dylan nodded and it became a rather awkward silence.

Usually, it wasn't so awkward between he and Dutch. He liked Dutch. They got along well and they didn't have any problems with each other. Their main goal was the same –keep Sam happy and taken cared of. They both wanted to protect her and give her the best.

But things like this made things a little difficult. And difficult things weren't good.

"And that's Sam," Dutch announced some time later, when the doorbell rang.

Dylan answered it and Sam looked surprised to see him there.

"Dylan! You're here. I thought you'd gone. Wait, why are you here?"

"Car's still parked up front, right?" Dylan joked weakly. He cleared his throat and spoke in a stronger voice. "Anyways, I didn't think it would be a good idea for me to be caught in your room so early in the morning, even fully clothed. Actually, especially since I'm still in  _yesterday's_  clothes."

"Right," she agreed awkwardly, getting it.

"Uh, come on in," Dylan moved aside and she entered the house.

She headed straight for the piano, comfortably settling in and already playing a piece.

"Hungry, schätzchen?" Dutch asked, coming by.

"I'll practice first," she shrugged.

"You'll end up practicing late and eating on the run," he huffed.

"I'll feed her," Dylan offered.

Dutch hmmed, passing over a plate and Sam hid her pout, allowing the darker-haired man to sit beside her on the piano and feed her as her hands danced across the keys.

" _Piano Sonata No.14_ , Mozart," Dylan murmured, pulling back to let Sam finish her second bite.

Sam glanced at him in surprise. "You know Mozart, Dylan?"

He looked at her in amusement. "Yes, of course. Why is that such a surprise?"

Sam smiled briefly. "Dunno. I guess I just pictured you as a rock type. Or 90's."

"Love 'em," Dylan agreed. "But I had the classical training when I was younger, like all good little rich aristocrat boys. Not that I don't actually like classical music…Anyways, I had to learn violin then."

"You know violin too?" Sam almost stopped playing in her excitement. "I do too! We should play together sometime."

Dutch plopped down by them, snorting. "More similarities between you, eh? Ja, you two really are somethin'…"

Dylan shot him a disgruntled look, slightly unsure of the man's meaning as well, but then turned his focus back to Sam, offering another bite.

"Sure, anytime you want. I focused on the violin, but I do know a little piano as well."

Conversation after that was even lighter, as Sam practiced and finished breakfast.

"You know, Sam, I have to write up some kind of progress report on how you're doing. I have to write a theory about why you have such an odd learning curve, but I have no clue. Any suggestions?" Dutch leaned back in his chair, plopping his feet onto the coffee table.

"You could use Trent's theory. Even if he's joking, there might be some kind of truth to it. He thinks I'm some sort of idiot savant or whatever," Sam nonchalantly informed them.

Both men blinked at her, though Dylan looked at Dutch oddly after.

"Why do you need to write up a report?" he interjected.

"Didn't you know?" Sam blinked. "Dutch is a secret agent."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Dutch told her in an amused tone. "And how do you think you're an idiot savant and how does that account for your previous more sponge-like intellect?"

While Dylan inwardly fretted about Dutch being a secret agent, especially considering his not so appropriate feelings towards Sam, she was busy humming in thought as she tapped her lips rhythmically.

"Well, idiot savants are more in tuned with the left side of their brain, meaning that the arts and creativity come more easy to them. I do well on everything from the instruments you've taught me to drawing, etc. They also have really advanced memory. I matched both those characteristics in spades. As for the change in intellect, the change didn't happen until after that weird incident when I was six and suddenly got sick. Before that, I didn't have a learning curve, but after it I did. Though, according to Trent, that's slowly lessening and apparently I'm becoming more like how I was before I was sick."

Dutch nodded while Dylan kept quiet, interested in the whole thing and having not really realized something like this was going on.

"Sounds more like you were a prodigious savant, before whatever made you sick heightened up the left side of your brain and caused you to be more like an idiot savant. Now, over time, the effects are slowly reversing and you're going back to genius level. Interesting. That's actually a very sound theory," Dutch nodded to himself, already lost in contemplation.

"So, school?" Sam turned to Dylan abruptly, ignoring Dutch and knowing the Germanic man would be busy theorizing and deducing.

"Ah, right. Let me just put this in the kitchen," Dylan caught up to the quick change in focus.

* * *

Dylan entered his new home cautiously, wary of his new "roommates."

"Why are you so hesitant? Drag your aft in here already," Starscream drawled, flipping through the channels on the TV as if he was a regular human.

Dylan twitched at the thought.

"Where's Soundwave?" he asked the mech.

"Tinkering in his room. He's in the holoform I used to have; the one Blackout and Barricade share too. I think he's unsatisfied with it. Whatever."

Dylan rolled his eyes in amusement and reluctant fondness, heading straight to the room he'd given to Soundwave. Knocking on it, he felt the warm brush against his mind that told him he was welcomed in, and entered without further admission.

The telepathic mech was quietly standing over his table, set against the wall in the far right corner, messing around with alien tech that Dylan didn't recognize and didn't want to.

"Dylan," Soundwave quietly greeted, still not looking up from his work.

"Soundwave," he greeted back, seating himself on the unneeded bed.

"I've been…seeing things in Starscream's mind. Flickering images of a femme. I cannot get a clear picture…he is being infuriating and making it difficult on purpose. There is, however, a strong sense of connection between you and her. Will you explain?"

Dylan clenched his jaw before opening his mind up to the mind read, knowing it would be easier this way and that the telepath would prefer this method and would just learn everything in the end anyways.

"This…Sam. You are very attached to her," Soundwave stated.

Dylan clenched his jaw again, but spoke a 'yes' in his head.

"I see. She is of no consequence to me. You may proceed in your courtship."

"What? It's not a courtship," Dylan hissed at the mech, twitching.

But by then, Soundwave was already ignoring him and didn't answer back. Sighing, he went out of the room and was just deciding to go back to Sam's and pick her up to go check out those car lots she'd found (as she was probably out of school by then), when he saw Starscream looking through some papers and another pile of papers was in front of the holoformed mech on the coffee table.

"'I was wondering if it was possible I could sleep over this time? I don't like having to fly there and then back in one day. I don't get to spend much time with you and the jet lag sucks –""

Dylan practically ran over and snatched the papers away, glancing down at the pile of papers on the table and seeing more of them. He started angrily picking them up and gathering them into his arms.

"Where did you get these?!"

Starscream raised his eyebrows and an idle smirk played on the holoform's lips.

"They're just copies. Don't worry –the originals are safe back at your office."

"You shouldn't be looking at them anyways," Dylan snapped at him. "They're my personal and private conversations with Sam."

"I just find it cute that my little charge saves and even prints copies of his emails to the femme," Starscream said nonchalantly, shrugging it off with an amused air.

Dylan gritted his teeth, but didn't bother to continue talking with the irritating mech, just knowing he would blow up in further anger. He practically stomped out and went to his car to head over to Sam's.

Meanwhile, over at Sam's, she had just concluded searching for used car lots and had printed out a list of them, along with the directions to her top choice, which was Bolivia's car lot.

"Sam, are you done with your computer? I need to borrow it, since your dad is using the other one to browse for sales on lawnmowers," Judy knocked on her daughter's door, before asking that.

Sam blinked at her before nodding hesitantly.

"Let me just finish printing this and I'm done," and not too long after, the printer finished and she collected her papers and left her mother to it, missing the strange glint in Judy's eyes.

Waiting until Sam was gone, Judy rushed over to the computer and sat down, quickly typing in a search for 'ebay'. She was glad that Sam was still logged into her account, but held back a reflexive laugh when she saw her daughter's profile.

She didn't know if it was her daughter's paranoia or some kind of joke she was missing, but for some reason Sam's username was 'ladiesman217'. It didn't help that her daughter hijacked a photo of Dylan and used it as her avatar.

Judy was sure the best part of that for her was the combination of the username with the photo, considering part of the username and who exactly the photo was. She wondered if she should tease Dylan about being a ladies' man the next time he came over, even if the joke would probably fly over his head.

Shaking her head, she tried to focus on her original mission, immediately starting to set things up. As far as she was concerned, family heirlooms or not, they were all junk and she'd rather try to sell them off on ebay and hope  _somebody_  ended up bidding for them and hopefully buying and taking them off the family's hands.

But she still couldn't help chuckling as she kept being reminded of the avatar and of the username that was plastered at the top of the page.

The doorbell rang and she got up, thinking to go get it. Just as she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw Sam had already reached it and was peeking through the eyehole. By the grin on her daughter's face, it was either Dutch, Trent, or Dylan. By how large it was, it was most probably Dylan.

The door swung open to reveal the man in question and a small grin flitted across her face before disappearing. She loved being right.

But now…to do it or to not do it, that was the question…

"Hey, ladies' man!" she greeted the younger man.

Dylan looked at her in confusion, while Sam's eyes widened in horror. Judy just snickered before attempting to escape without any further questioning from either side.

"Mom! Dylan and I are going to check out car lots for his new project, okay?" Sam yelled up at her, as she was already on the next floor.

"If you say so~" Judy sing-songed back.

Sam wrinkled up her nose in annoyance, wondering what was up with her mom. Dylan tapped a finger lightly against her nose and she stopped, starting to pout instead as she looked at him disgruntled.

"Let's go?' he asked her fondly.

They drove out, briefly visiting Sam's other picks before heading to her top choice. They were getting closer to it when Sam 'oohed' and pointed out a Porsche car lot.

"Can we drive by there, please?" she almost gave him the puppy eyes.

He turned and entered it, doing so (and even better by actually entering it) before she could give him those eyes and make him do it that way. He drove through it slowly, letting Sam eagerly look around from where she sat in her seat, before seeing the exit and driving through it and then heading towards the close by Bolivia's.

"Manny! Get your cousin out of that damn clown suit! He's having a heat stroke again. Scaring white folks," they heard as he turned the car around a corner and then moved to park it.

"I'm hot. Makeup's melting. It hurts my eyes –"

"Sooo," Sam chuckled nervously. "Maybe my instincts were off this time…"

"No, your instincts are always spot on, Sam," Dylan gave her an unsure smile. "Let's just…check this place out at least. If we get nothing, we'll take a break for the day and head for some dinner and then ice cream before I take you home, okay?"

Sam nodded, eying the car lot warily. A lot of the cars were really, really bad, and she wasn't sure that even Dylan could fix one of these…

"Well…no sacrifice, no victory," she muttered her family motto.

They got out of the car and headed closer to the entrance, where they were met by who they guessed was Bobby Bolivia.

"My good sir and lady! Bobby Boliva –like the country, except without the runs," Bobby B. laughed and they halfheartedly laughed as well. "How can I help you?"

Dylan took over and Sam sort of looked around, her gaze sweeping over the lot.

"What about you, pretty lady? You want a car? I'll give a discount just for you," Bobby B. winked at her.

Dylan frowned and was about to cut in, when Sam grinned and winked back.

"You want to know a secret?" Sam said conspiratorially and the dark-skinned man nodded, playing along. "I crash cars on a daily basis. It wouldn't be a good idea."

"Shame, such a shame."

Dylan didn't know what was more disturbing. That the guy was attempting to flirt with the girl by his side…or that Sam was strangely taking it in stride and shrugging it off practically playfully.

"Now, pretty lady. Let me tell you something, for when you come back here to buy your first car finally. A driver don't pick the car. The car'll pick the driver. It's a mystical bond between man and machine. Er, well, lady in your case. And I'm a lot of things, but a liar's not one of them."

Sam nodded sagely, while Dylan looked at him incredulously.

"Especially not in front of my mammy. That's my mammy. Hey, Mammy!" the old lady he'd hollered at stuck her middle finger back at him in response to his greeting. "Ooh, don't be like that. If I had a rock, I'd bust your head, bitch," Bobby B. muttered. "I tell you, man, she deaf, you know?"

As Bobby B. laughed and Sam chuckled politely, Dylan contemplated just taking Sam away from there and skipping straight to dinner.

"Well, over here, every piece of a car a man might want or need," they were led more inside the lot.

Dylan refrained from commenting that 'every piece' was probably wanted for spare parts, not the cars themselves.

"Oh! Look, Dylan. This one isn't bad. It's got racing stripes," he looked over to see which car Sam was talking about.

"Yeah. It got racing. ..Yeah, what's this? What the heck is this? I don't know nothing about this car. Manny!"

"What?"

"What is this? This car! Check it out!"

"I don't know, boss! I've never seen it! That's loco!"

"Don't go all Ricky Ricardo on me, Manny! Find out!"

Dylan's eyebrows shot up as he watched. However, he turned to Sam.

"Hey, get in the driver's seat. Check out how it feels," he nudged.

"Feels good," Sam murmured, settling in comfortably.

Dylan nodded before turning back to Bobby B. to start the negotiations. He was pretty sure he was going to have to bargain with this one.

"Hey, she your…?" Bobby B. nodded towards Sam in question.

Dylan gave him a look and he shut up.

"How much?" Dylan practically deadpanned.

"Well, considering the semi-classic nature of the vehicle, with the slick wheels and the custom paint job…"

"Paint's faded," the businessman retorted.

"Y-yeah, but it's custom."

He was getting a small headache from this. However, he looked over at Sam and decided to persevere through this. She picked this particular one. He'd always go with her instincts.

"It's custom faded?"

"Uh well…"

"This isn't  _my_  first car, sir. I've been around the block enough to know whatever price you're thinking of, this car isn't worth that," Dylan said dryly.

"Five grand."

"I'm not paying over four," Dylan scowled.

"Why don't we look at some other cars then? Now this one here for four Gs is a beaut," he pointed at the car next to it.

Dylan inwardly winced.

"Sam, come on. There's a Fiesta over there we could check out," Dylan was reluctant to take Sam away from it, considering the dimmed light in her eyes and that sad pout she was starting to instinctively make.

God, he was a sucker for her pouts.

"Door won't open."

Dylan blinked. Wait, what?

"A little help here?"

They rushed over to her side and tried to pry the door open, but nothing worked.

"Climb out the window," he suggested, and he helped her struggle out of it.

"Now, this is a classic engine right here. I sold a car the other day –"

The bright canary yellow Camaro Sam had picked suddenly had the door closest to the car Bobby B. was talking about, smash into it.

Bobby B. laughed tentatively. "No, no, no. No worries."

"You all right?" Sam stared.

"It's good. I'll get a sledgehammer and knock this right out. Hey, hey, Manny! Get your clown cousin and get some hammers and come bang this stuff out, baby!"

The Camaro's radio started going crazy but Bobby B. ignored it, focusing on another car.

"That one's my favorite, drove all the way from Alabamy."

All of a sudden, a loud, piercing screech came from the car and shattered all the glass nearby and got some cars alarming. Bobby B. gaped at what was left of his car lot, Dylan grew a sinking feeling in his gut, and Sam gawked around her.

"Hah. Ah, four thousand!" Bobby B. held up four fingers, slightly dazed.

"Huh, I guessed the car picked us," Sam commented nonchalantly.

Started 7/15/12–Completed 8/7/12

**Author's Note:**

> Can you all catch the Hetalia, Dollhouse, and Afterschool Charisma references?
> 
> Sam's personality will change drastically now that she has met Dylan, but not in the way you would think. But the sad and nearly apathetic her in this chapter will occasionally show up. And Uncle Ben is an actual character in canon.
> 
> Fräulein is not generally used by Germans anymore, especially since it's been prohibited by the German Minister of the Interior in 1972 (and specifically banned on all writing) and 'frau' was to be used for all women (married or not) (hence, Dutch saying 'frau' instead). Unless, of course, asked to be addressed by the woman herself. However, here it's used because of Sam's small stature and because she's a cute little girl (fräulein comparable to English 'Miss' and literally 'little woman' or 'little Mrs.'). And according to the wikis, Dutch is/either German.


End file.
